


It Was Never That Simple

by Golden_Au, TKWolf45



Series: Simple series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mpreg, Multi, NSFW, Not Canon Compliant, Part 2, Polyamory, TRIGGERING SCENES, Torture, Whump, emotional torture, implied sex, implied/references rape/non-con, psychological torment, slow-burn happy ending, soul torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 62
Words: 209,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Au/pseuds/Golden_Au, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKWolf45/pseuds/TKWolf45
Summary: The first part wassupposedto have a happy ending. In fact, none of this was supposed to happen.But, we guess"It Was Never That Simple"(Part 2 of the Simple series! Part 1:It's Not That Simple)





	1. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the husbands are taken to their new home...
> 
> (Immediately starts after the end of [It's Not That Simple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322347/chapters/45961780)

They followed Cross through several hallways. Each step ached horribly for three of them, though beyond somewhat labored breathing, and the soft drips of blood, nobody really knew. Reaper pushed Geno down the hall in his wheelchair. Not that Geno couldn't walk, but he barely seemed cognizant of the world around him. All the while, the conscious husbands glared at the back of Nightmare's _most loyal second._

Just as one of them was about to say something, they reached a door that... looked strangely- 

Reaper and Error hissed, with the former snarling, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" 

It looked exactly like the front door of where their kids were at right now. Like their _real_ home.

Instead of entering through the door, Cross turned around to face the small group. Despite his wounds, he still wore that damn emotionless mask that made him look so uncaring of everything taking place. 

"These are your new quarters," he informed them, blatantly leaving the familiar door unaddressed. "Although you'll soon be allowed more freedom, you're to remain behind this door unless told otherwise, though there should be no reason for wishing to leave with everything you've been provided with. You have the rest of the night to rest, but tomorrow morning I'll be retrieving you as always. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Error growled, stepping forward, "I have _questions_, Cross. I have a lot of questions, actually. When you say you'll be retrieving us, who do you mean? Me, Ink, and Reaps? Or _Geno_, too?"

Eyes blank, the other second answered blandly, "Geno is to remain within your quarters. Nightmare has included a space for him to relax while he awaits your returns. He personalized it himself."

"I see..." Nodding in understanding, Error took another step closer. "Uh huh, okay. And will he be bothered while left alone? Actually, no, let me rephrase that." 

Snarling, Error lunged forward and slammed Cross up against the door. "Are you going to fucking rape my brother when we're not there to stop it?!"

Cross met his gaze, seeming like he was piling his guard up more and more. "If you're planning to kill me, then just **do it**. Or go through Nightmare to request a formal fight-to-the-death with me." His voice dropped, _"Surely_, you'd want the second title _all to yourself again?_ After all, Nightmare hasn't properly _welcomed you_ back home." His eyes slid to Ink. "Besides, not sure how _he'll_ take a death so close to him, " and he met Error's glare again, half-shrugging, "but it's all your choice."

Following Cross' gaze to Ink when the other second looked his first husband's way, Error faltered. _Ink_... Would dusting affecting Ink just like- he froze, gaze sliding back to Cross and the tightness of his neutral smile. _He's still hurt._

And Error just _slammed him against the wall_ with his _empath_ husband _right there._

Protectiveness for Ink surged to life, strong enough to twist his anger into worry. "Get out of here," he demanded, releasing Cross and stepping back to rejoin his family. "Just... leave. I'm sick of looking at your face."

Without so much of a blink, Cross smoothed out his wrinkled, torn shirt the best he could before turning on his heel and striding away. "See you tomorrow." he murmured just before turning the corner.

Growling under his breath, the destroyer turned to the door. *Hopefully, there's a first aid-" his thoughts stilled, eyes catching on the small purple smear left on the wood to the entrance. "...Inky, are you holding up okay?" he murmured, dragging his gaze from the blood to the shiny doorknob. "What about you, Reaps?" 

Before either could answer, he pushed up the door, intent on searching out whatever supplies they were given to help his husband's with their wounds.

They were greeted with the opening to their house but... more sterile. It was as if it were freshly renovated, but everywhere they looked, it was renter's white with toxic green accents. A sick reflection of their true home. 

None of them wanted to deal with this... 

But still, Reaper murmured, "I'm..." he trailed off and looked to Ink. 

"I'm more fine than you are Reaps, we need to get your wounds checked," the artist said. 

"You have _both_ of our-" 

"I heal faster than the rest of you." Both the god and the destroyer suspected that was true, but- "Worry about yourselves first, okay? Please? I can manage, you two, and... and we have more important things to worry about." To make where his concern lied clear, Ink turned to look at Geno, anxiety visible in his eyes. "....It feels like he's trapped behind a veil...." he whispered.

A distressed noise slipped past Reaper's mouth, talons melding back into blunt phalanges as he reached out and gently cupped Geno's cheek. "Is... do you think we can bring him out of it...?" he questioned worriedly. 

Gently ushering Reaper inside, Ink worked through the lingering pain of his copied wounds in order to take over pushing Geno. "I... I don't know, honey." The admission hurt, but it was the only truthful response Ink had. "It's- trying to sense him is like trying to find your way through the fog. I know what he's feeling, but... but I can't tell where he is."

"I... don't understand." The god murmured, knowing that Ink didn't mean where Geno was physically but still unsure of just what that actually meant. "Ink-"

Error pressed his palms into Reaper's chest, carefully pushing him backwards until he stood before the sofa. "If you're going to talk, then at least sit down, okay? _Both_ of you. I... I'm going to find supplies."

"Check the bathroom, under the sink-" Ink blinked, glancing around and remembering that this wasn't **really** their home. The realization stung, though that may have just been the tears stringing his sockets as they fell from his eyes. "U-um... maybe we'll just use some towels...?" He pushed Geno closer to Reaper then carefully sat down next to him, letting out a soft whimper with the way his lower back shot pain through the rest of his body. 

Error disappeared upstairs, and Reaper turned to Ink. "Inky... I'm-" 

"Don't apologize," Ink forced a smile at Reaper, gaze soft yet blurred. "I would've been more upset with you if you _didn't_ fight." Ink turned over one of his hands, showing Reaper the palm that had a cut the exact size and shape of Reaper's own. "You already know I feel emotions, hon, and that I see them. They're like... they're like colorful auras. Like, the air around and within you shimmers- um..." Ink's brows pursed together. "It's... like.... so what you're seeing now? Imagine a second layer, that's somehow on top, inside, and behind Geno. That second layer would be his emotions. I can't see anything in front of or behind him, only inside him. Like he's trapped inside." 

Reaper stared at Geno, frowning slightly, then looked back to Ink. "I'm not sure I fully get it..." 

"He's... it's like he's dreaming, but he's..." Ink looked down. "He's alive in there, but he's not aware of us? Or not fully aware? But wherever he is in his mind..." he stopped himself. Telling Reaper that Geno was scared wouldn't help any of them. Geno would still be scared, and Reaper would just beat himself up over being unable to help his first. He clenched his jaw, wincing at the pain in his tongue. "We'll help him find his way back to us, Reaps..."

Worry shown in Reaper's eyes. "...Inky, can... can you...?" he paused there, nauseated sorrow clogging his throat and sealing off his words.

Smiling reassuringly, Ink covered Reaper's split palm with his own and lightly held his hand. He didn't dare apply much pressure, but the intent to comfort was there. "Can I...?"

He wanted to tease. To ask if Ink wanted to try healing their tongues through a kiss or anything else that may lighten the mood. Reaper desperately wanted to joke or wave away the question lingering on his tongue.

He wanted to not have to ask at all.

"...Is... c-can... can you feel _anything_ else?" he whispered. "I... I don't really know how your abilities work, but- if..." closing his eyes, he carefully squeezes the artists' hand. "...Can you feel if _it’s_ true? I... stars, Inky, I'm sorry to ask, but I don't want to check. Fuck, I hate that we even have to."

A surprised blink and silence greeted Reaper's request, but... Ink thought about it. 

_"I thought you had shields to protect your heart..." Ink murmured, not seeming all that there as he leaned in over the blade to look Cross in the eye. "...but maybe I was wrong. All that good Dream thought was inside you...? Maybe it was a lie. Because I use to say shit like that when I didn't have a soul. Maybe you're being cruel because you don't have a fucking heart!"_

_Cross flinched back, his blade retreating with him. "I-"_

_Ink only stepped in closer, red tears fading into a deep, sorrowful blue as he followed Cross' retreat. "We're not done crying yet, Cross. For all we know, neither is Error. Heh, maybe Geno isn't-"_

_Fingers curled into his shirt, Geno weakly tugged him closer as he whimpered and cried, "P-please... please, p-please stay. D-don't... don't leave me a-alone. Please, d-don't leave m-me here. H-he'll come back! P-please, C-Cross, he'll come back! Please d-don't leave m-me!"_

_At once, Ink and Cross stumbled away from one another, their sockets wide and panicked as they stared each other down._

It wasn't Ink's shirt Geno was gripping and begging. It was _Cross'_ shirt. _Cross'_ memory. 

_**Cross'** blue._

Ink slowly looked over to Geno. To the icy white fear hidden behind that veil. He hadn't been able to see Cross' colors, but it hadn't seemed to matter... maybe he could...? N-no... no, if one or both of them had hurt, had t-touched Geno, Ink didn't want to see it...! Didn't want to _feel_ it or _experience-_

He set his jaw. _If Geno experienced it, then I- no, **we** need to know._

_….Right…?_

"Inky...? I-if you can't-" 

"I think I can," he whispered. "I... I'm not sure... if I'm thinking about this right... the first time I did this, it was accidental, but..." he nodded. "I'm going to try-" 

"Try what?" Error asked. 

Reaper looked over to him, seeing his arms full of all sorts of bandages and anti-bacterial ointment. No anti-scarring creams though. 

Ink's sockets were on Geno. "I'm going to discover the truth." He spoke with more certainty than he was voicing to Reaper just seconds ago.

Error followed his eyes, brows furrowed in confusion before the realization set in. "No!" he hissed, carefully nudging Geno back with his foot and stepping to hide his brother from Ink's sight. "Inky- Ink, no."

"Error-"

_"NO!"_ the destroyer barked, glaring down at Ink with narrowed sockets full of fear. "Ink, I don't know what the fuck you think you're about to try, but... no. Just... just _no_. You're an empath, idiot. Not some- you're not a fucking fortune teller, or some shit like that. Just...leave him alone, idiot." his voice softened. "Please? I... stars, we can't risk it, okay? Whatever truth you're looking for in his emotions, we can't risk hurting him more to find it."

_Emotions...?_ Ink's sockets widened slightly. Error didn't know. About the... the images? Visions? Whatever they really were, Ink was never able to inform his family about just what he actually saw. There was never any time to describe it. "Ru, I-"

"No."

"Error-"

"Ink, _please,"_ Error begged. "Just drop it, okay? _Please?"_

Reaper, though guilty for suggesting Ink's aid, tried to argue. "Ru, hon, we... we need to know if it's true. If they- if..." peering around Error, the god withheld a sob at the dull expression his first wore. "If he's actually pregnant, we _have_ to know. It- it's _Gen's_ baby, Ru." Geno's. Not Nightmare's, or Cross'. The baby was _Geno's_, because Reaper wasn't sure if he could handle thinking otherwise at the moment. "H-he'll need things, hon. Bigger meals, c-comfort... Ru, how else are we supposed to find out?"

"The old fashion way." Error hissed. _"Check."_

"Check for _what,_ Error?" Ink cried out. "Bruises? _Trauma?"_

"Tch," Error turned towards his brother, murmuring an apology before gently lifting his shirt up. 

To reveal Geno's ecto fully formed. As if readying to house a souling within it. Or... maybe there was a souling already inside? It was hard to tell with the saturation of Geno's ecto. 

"It's... his ecto isn't being forced..." Reaper whispered.

Overcome with emotion, Error tightly closed his eyes and let his brother's shirt slip from his grasp. "...There's your answer, Reaps." he choked, the denial he unknowingly clung to crumbling in the face of evidence. 

Reaper's voice failed him, what would have been a mournful noise dying before it even left his throat. "N...no..." No, no, no. Not their Geno. _Not their Gen!_ "No, that- w-we..." his tears went unnoticed, the warmth of his sorrow buried under the layers of ice chilling him straight down to his core. "...We need to help him. I... I mean, he- Geno's-"

Ink gripped Reaper's hand tightly, the pain that bloomed from their cuts joining grounding him to the present he wasn't sure he wanted to live. "We'll take care of them, Reaps. _B-both_ of them." 

Error could bring himself to open his eyes. It was too early for Geno to show, but he couldn't look at his brother's face knowing that he failed him this badly. "...Both...?" he whispered, tears slipping pass clenched sockets. That wasn't _their_ kid. Why should they-

_But it's **Geno's.**_ And it- _they_ were just a baby, too young to even form the shape of a soul. They weren't responsible for what happened to his brother, just a result of it.

A reminder of Geno's abuse.

But an innocent _SOUL._

Ink shook his head, but bit back every denial he wanted to voice. He... he needed- 

_He needed to know for certain._

_"Ink, please," Error begged. "Just drop it, okay? Please?"_

He can't. But he rose from the couch and wheeled Geno into the dining room, murmuring to him, "We're gonna get Reaps patched up, then get you cozy in bed, okay hon...?" He knew he wouldn't get a response, but... 

He turned back towards his other husbands, murmuring wearily, "C'mon... we've got some wounds to wrap..."

———

Their dinner wasn't very exciting. Just a simple and quick pasta dish that nobody really felt like eating. They showered, re-wrapped wounds, then got themselves situated in the same room. Nobody really bothered to check the other rooms, having run out of the mental energy to do so, so they picked the first room that was upstairs and set it up for the four of them. Error made hammocks for Reaper and Ink, being aware of their injuries, then a hammock for himself. Geno was tucked into the bed, though Reaper desperately wished his _everything_ hurt less enough that he could hold his first. Lights went out fairly soon, and Ink watched the colors of his husbands soothe into the muted colors of sleep.

But he couldn't shut his mind down. 

_I need to know, I need to know, I need to know-_

He took Geno's limp hand into his own bandaged one and closed his eyes. _Okay... okay similar emotions..._ Stars, he had no idea what he was doing..! Maybe he should take Error's advice and- 

He set his jaw. _No. No, we need to know, before one of us does something drastic to him..._ Eyes dropping down to their hands, it occurred to Ink that this might be drastic, but he shook that thought aside. Instead, he focused on the icy white that was stronger, but still hidden behind the veil. Geno was so scared... but so was Ink. _What if he does something to Geno and it actually does fuck him up? What if Geno never wakes up...? What if-?_

Ink blinked, finding himself in a dark room with a single light. His mind felt heavier, and he held himself around the midsection. He found himself wondering what time it was, and where his husbands were. Were they even okay? 

_Oh..._ Ink blinked again-

_"You won't say anything.”_

Nightmare...! 

_"I know you won't." Ink couldn't see the bastard through the darkness though, but his voice continued, calling Geno's name with Error's, then Reaper's, then-_

Ink growled, temporarily losing focus and being pulled away from the memory. He shook his head. _White. White fear, not red anger._ Each breath soothed his anger, until he let himself drift back into Geno's fear.

_Fingers curled into his shirt, Geno weakly tugged Cross closer as he whimpered and cried, "P-please... please, p-please stay. D-don't... don't leave me a-alone. Please, d-don't leave m-me here. H-he'll come back! P-please, C-Cross, he'll come back! Please d-don't leave m-me!"_

The same memory from Cross, but this time, it was from Geno's perspective. Stars, Cross' expression though. He looked... torn- 

_"Geno! Geno! **Geno!!**" the voice was so loud, yet... it felt so distant. Cross came into his vision, panic in his-_

_"The night's still young, Genocide..." Nightmare's voice purred, though Geno whimpered and inched away, "...why don't we have some **FUN?**"_

Ink jolted out of the fear, gasping and sweating. He stumbled off the bed, crashing to the floor and crying out when his broken ribs shifted out of place. 

Error was awake almost instantly. He whipped his gaze around, until it settled on Ink.

"Ink, you fucking-"

"Ru."

One word.

One _name_, and only half of the actual nickname at that.

Ink's mutter was so quiet that a whisper would have easily spoken over him, but Error heard him loud and clear. Heard the wet, breathy quality that hinted at pain paired with blood. _You fucking idiot_, he wanted to scream, but Reaper was lost in exhaustion and Ink...

Ink was crying.

"...Hey, no..." Error whispered, swallowing anger to let his softened voice flow. "Inky, please don't cry. I know it probably hurts like a bi-"

"It was Nightmare," Ink rasped, slumping forward to rest his head on Error's shoulder in a manner that jostled his out of place ribs. "I... I don't know a-about Cross for sure, but... b-but," a sob was muffled into his husband's shirt, "Nightmare hurt him, Ru."

"How... how do you-?" 

"I tried to tell you..." he whispered. "It's.... I saw something... wh-when you... when our alarm- w-with Cross-" 

"Ink..." 

_"Error_, I... I thought I saw Geno clinging to my shirt, b-but it wasn't _my_ shirt, it was h-his, and I just-" 

He connected the dots pretty quickly. "You thought you might be able to see something with Geno...?" 

"T-to know for sure... b-but it's... _I still don't know...!"_ he cringed and looked down to his ribs, where his blood was already making a mess of his shirt. His first glanced down too, cursing softly. 

Error helped Ink lean against the bed, muttering, "Don't move. At all." Ink shut his eyes, unbeknownst to him of the white and purple tears flowing from those closed sockets.

With his eyes closed, what little solace he had of being with his husbands was snatched away. In place of the darkness provided by his closed sockets, he saw the darkness of wherever it was that Geno's torment had taken place.

_Dark... so, so dark..._ This type of shadow was a different hell than the blank whiteness Ink feared.

It was deep.

Unending.

_So, so cold..._

In a way, he almost preferred the blank anti-void. 

_There's no shadows to hide in there..._ There was no horror to conceal behind thick darkness. 

"Ink...?" Error called.

_"Geno!" Error shouted._

His eyes snapped open, chest heaving as reality and mockery merged for a brief, terrifying moment. _Nightma-!_

Error met his eyes with a frown, the wraps from the first aid kit held in his hands.

Ink shuddered, trying to control his breathing as his gaze focused on Error. "Fr-" he stopped. _No... no special nicknames here._ It wasn't something they'd discussed explicitly, but if Nightmare learned about them... 

Error's gaze softened as understanding sunk into him, though his frustration that Ink didn't listen still lingered within him. He knelt down next to Ink, muttering, "If you had stayed in the hammock, your ribs probably would've healed already." 

Softer than a whisper, Ink replied, "I think it's because Reaps and I are so close together..." Carefully, he lifted his shirt up and over his head. Error glanced at his sternum, where the marks mirroring Cross' injuries lay. Though Ink had taken what sounded like a hard fall onto his chest, his sternum wasn't bleeding. Just the floating ribs on one side. 

Not that it mattered too much. _As soon as Cross comes by tomorrow, Ink's gonna be in pain... Stars dammit...!_

Ink covered Error's hand, "Ru. Honey, don't worry so much about me, okay...?" he tried for a smile that he couldn't feel.

"Shut up," Error muttered, looking at the ribs. "J-just.... why? Why do you have to be such an idiot...? Why can't you....?" 

"Ru..." he squeezed Error's hand. "Hon, we... we _all_ fell for it..." 

"Yeah?" Error narrowed his eyes at his first. "Well, I should've seen it. I should've seen the game he was playing. All I saw was Geno in danger. I ignored the signs. _I should have known!_ Because I was his fucking _second!_ I... I failed you all." 

Ink moved closer, cringing at the tugging in his ribs. He kissed Error softly, murmuring against his grin, "Error, you didn't fail us."

"Like hell I didn't." It wasn't a shout. Error's voice ever raised a single bit in volume, but the defeated tone made the words so much more impacting than screaming could ever manage. _"I should have known, Ink._ Out of everyone in this castle, _I'm_ the one who had all the pieces they needed to figure out his plan. I know how he works, Ink. I... _I know."_

And that... that was the worst part of it. Error _knew._ He knew so much more than he was sure Ink realized. The disgusting, lewd comments, Nightmare's searching hands... he thought they were just to get a rise out of him, but he of all people should have known the difference between that disgusting creature toying with his prey and showing real, unnerving interest. 

_Ge, I'm sorry..._ He could have saved him. He _should_ have saved him.

Error should have saved them all, damnit.

"I'm sorry..."

The wave of regret, self-loathing, _exhaustion_ all left Ink sagging against the bed slightly. "...honey... please.... please don't beat yourself up. What's done is done. It's shitty and we have to deal with the consequences and the aftermath, but it's done. So, let's try and get Geno to wake up before we decide anything okay? But before _that_, maybe we should sle-" 

"Like what you should've been doing?" 

"Yeah," Ink took in a breath, and stared at the floor. "....Yeah.... but you're also the second, aren't you...? Why are we four still limited to a smaller area...?"

Unrolling the new bandages, Error took up the task of fitting Ink's two broken ribs back into place as gently as he could. To give Ink something to focus on beyond his own pain, he sighed and murmured, "...He doesn't trust us."

Ink frowned, "So...? Ru, he has to know we won't risk doing anything impulsive when he has-" his eyes flicked in Geno's direction. "...The same risk remain. Nightmare has the upper hand. So why limit us? Trust or no trust?"

"Ink," Error sighed, "if you were left alone for a hour and you were sure no one would catch you snooping, would you search for Geno's SOUL?"

Barely a second passed before his answer came. "Of course!"

Error shot him a deadpan look.

It took a second for Ink to catch up. "...oh...." 

Error continued working on his ribs. "Exactly. You need to earn his trust. You-" _You're going to have to go against everything you stand for..._ "...should stop worrying about it right now..." 

_I can't see you doing that, Inky..._ The destroyer watched Ink's expression fade into a contemplative but distant one. _But I know you'll try... stars, why'd I fall for this dumbass...?_

_"About your eyes-"_

_Error tensed, shoulders brushing the side of his skull as he tried to brace for what he knew would come. Mockery, ridicule... his eyes were strange, he knew. Misshapen, mismatched... ugly, even._

_"-they're so pretty! I've never seen anyone with eyes like yours!"_

In the darkness of the bedroom, a light blush colored Error's cheeks, thankfully too soft for the glow to be noticeable. _Idiot..._ he thought, expertly knotting the bandages before brushing away the tears that gathered on the protector's cheeks during his aid. "Get some rest, Inky. We have an early start tomorrow."

"I'll try..." he murmured, looking to him. There wasn't much to say beyond those words. Fairly quickly, they got themselves comfortable again and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you are reading, please do enjoy and comment, but please _do not_repost our work to another website without permission! 
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to ask either of us! We do have the 'do not repost' tag on this fic, and we would appreciate if you do see someone who has posted our work somewhere, to let us know. It hasn't been a problem with this fic series yet, but we are taking a proactive attempt to prevent this! 
> 
> Thank you very much and please enjoy!


	2. Pest Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the husbands are called in for a mission, and we finally get to see our sunshine boy again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be flipping perspectives between the husbands and Dream!

Error and Reaper woke up just before their alarm went off. Ink was sitting in the room, fiddling with an unsharpened pencil. He murmured a good morning when he felt their colors sharpen with awareness, but otherwise didn't turn towards them. "There's some snacks on the dresser. Cross should be coming by in another half hour." 

"Did you sleep?" Error asked. 

"Mmhmm!" Ink hummed confirmation. The other narrowed his sockets, not believing him.

"In-"

Reaper's soft, pained hiss saved Ink a lecture. For now. "Shit," the god cursed, a series of sharp pains shooting all across his upper back, centralized in his shoulders. "I-Inky? Ru? Can... can one of you help me?"

Shooting one last frown Ink's way, the destroyer turned to face Reaper and made the short walk to the god's side. "Hon? What's going on?" he asked, carefully coaxing the strings of the hammock to stretch to lower Reaper closer to the ground.

"J-just... just a side effect from yesterday, I think." Reaper breathed, wincing as his muscles protested the movement he made as he sat himself up with Error's aid. Gone was the electric-like shocks of pain. In their place, _fire._ "I... I shouldn't have called out my wings." Everything felt tense and torn, like his muscle was put through a shredder and whatever remained was tied into big, stiff knots. "Fuck, I... I can't tell if I need a massage or for something to crack."

"The wound _was_ aggravated, Reaps," with Reaper's permission, Error pulled his shirt over his shoulders to take a look at the shoulder blade. "I'll try massaging around it, but it might not help, depending on what he wants us to do today." 

Ink bit back his own cry at Reaper's pain. He moved away, whispering, "I'll try and find us some pain meds..." 

Error nodded, setting to work on massaging out the tension with ecto formed around his hands.

Reaper winced, though the reaction had little to do with the prodding against his aching shoulders. When the door clicked shut behind Ink, he did his best not to wilt under the overwhelming weight of his own regret. "...I really should have been more careful..." No matter what Ink said, Reaper shouldn't have allowed himself to get as angry as he did. Wings, talons... Closing his eyes, he tried to make the way he relaxed into Error's hands look less like the defeated slump it was. 

Error saw right through the attempt. "You know he doesn't blame you for what he's feeling, right?" With a murmured apology, he dug his fingertips into a large area of tension and coaxed the pseudo muscle there into a state of relaxation. "You did what you thought you had to do for us. Ink respects that, Reaps."

"I behaved like a child," the god denied, breath hitching in pain at the sharp yet helpful jabs against his back. "What I did? It was little more than a tantrum."

"You had every right to be pissed, hon."

"And I had every reason to control myself with Ink sitting _right there,"_ Reaper countered.

Error paused slightly, but continued his work. "And what would that have done? Prolonged them learning about Ink? Besides, he's been an empath for less than half a year. That's a long time, but it's still easy to forget, now that he's not talking colors." 

"Ru, I should have-" 

"Enough. Stop beating yourself up, okay? Because that's going to hurt the both of you more, _and_ it isn't helpful for us now. You wanna wallow in self-pity? Forget about it." 

Reaper glanced over his shoulder, seeing Error's serious face on. He looked back down to his lap. "You're beating yourself up, too. And so is Ink." 

"..." Error sighed. "That might be true, but-" 

"No, if I'm gonna stop, then you need to, too."

Error couldn't bring himself to agree. Everything he was hung up on? It was... different.

Then again, wasn't that always the excuse with these things?

With a quiet sigh, he worked out the last of the tension he could feel before leaning forward and pressing his teeth as close to the original wound as he dared. "...I'll try, Reaps. That's... that's really all I can offer. To try."

Eyes fluttering shut as teeth trailed over every soothed ache, Reaper trilled quietly and offered up an understanding nod. "Thanks, Ru." For the help. For agreeing to at least attempt giving himself a break.

Error rested his forehead just between Reaper's shoulders, willing himself to find the strength to continue the day. They didn't have much time before Cross collected them. _Stars, he didn't want to do this..._

He glanced over to where Geno still slumbered. "I'll check on him," Reaper murmured.

Nodding, Error helped Reaper put a new shirt on before wandering out into the hall. To find Ink staring at the kitchen area. His hands reached up to his chest, where his sash used to lay, but... he hadn't had it in weeks. All that was there was the single, light-colored shirt with Nightmare's insignia. Not even a jacket to comfort him. Hearing and sensing Error, he turned slightly and smiled, seeming to erase his earlier feelings with that grin. 

Error knew better. Always did.

Closing the distance between them, Error stepped into Ink's space as much as his first wanted to allow and pressed their teeth together. Just once, barely long enough for the soft touch of teeth to register. 

"You know..." Head falling back, he met the artist's eyes with a blank, tired expression. "...if you don't feel like smiling, then you don't have to Ink."

Ink's smile faltered, but ultimately remained. 

Sighing, Error lightly bumped their hips together as he passed his protector, thankful for his terrible sight if only because the drawings pinned to the fridge were blurred. "You don't need to pretend for us, Inky." If anything, the pretending made them worry more.

Reaching into the fridge, he rummaged through what they had before pulling out a simple four-pack of yogurt. One for each of them. Perfect.

"I... can't bring myself to..." Ink glanced away, murmuring, "If I let myself feel what's brewing below the surface, it'll get Geno killed, and hurt you two, and I just..." he shook his head. "If I pretend I'm fine, I can get us to a place where we really _will_ be fine." 

Error slowly shut the door, fiddling with the tops of the yogurt. "Fake it 'til you make it?" 

"Exactly." 

_Bullshit. It's complete bullshit, but he's not going to budge on it, is he...?_ Sighing, he turned around and passed Ink a yogurt cup. "Don't you dare try to hide your wounds from me. Last thing we need is you being an idiot and letting them get infected." 

Ink took the cup but couldn't meet Error's eyes. "Like how my chest _still_ isn't healed from Nightmare's claws...?"

Error inhale sharply, nausea burning at the back of his throat from a painful rush of memories. “...I’m going to ask for cream.” He decided.

Ink jolted, his eyes widening as he stared at Error in shocked disbelief. “Ru, you can’t-“

Practically growling the words, the destroyer cut in viciously, “I can and I _will_, damnit. Nightmare has us where he wants us, Ink. The toying around he’s doing? At this point, it’s just to rub his victory in our faces. But he made me second. Partially, but _still_. At the very least, I should be able to request some fucking healing for us, no matter what bullshit games doing so interferes with.”

_Don’t_, Ink wanted to beg. _Don’t make us owe him. Don’t give more leverage, please._ “Error, that’s-“

“Ink.” And there it was. The confident, commanding tone Error unknowingly slipped into when he earned his position back. “Let me do this? Honestly, at this point? The worst that asshole can do is rub his denial in our faces.” Glancing down at the packs remaining in his hands, Error sighed, “...For now, let’s go give these to Reaps and Ge. Think you handle being up there?”

Ink gently curled a pinky around Error's own. "Ru...." he whispered. "Ru, _please_ don-" 

"Can you handle it up there, Ink?" 

"I can handle being with my husbands," came the careful reply. 

Error curled his pinky around Ink's. A tiny substitute for actually holding hands, but neither of them could really bring themselves to that much contact at the moment. “Then let’s go.”

———

Right on time, Cross knocked on their door. Three knocks, before he invited himself in. Reaper, Ink, and Error stood on the other side of the door, waiting for him. Though two glared, Ink couldn't even bring himself to look at the second.

He didn't want to see the emotionless mask that matched the voice, "Follow me to the throne room for your mission."

No response came from the trio beyond nods and those two frigid stares.

Understanding that was all he would receive, Cross bravely turned his back to the small group and took just a few steps forward to allow them the space they needed to exit their personalized quarters. Pausing, he waited for the sound of the door clicking shut.

"We'll be back, Ge," Reaper murmured, words quiet that they would have gone overheard had the hallway not been silent.

Cross closed his eyes, turmoil hidden by a turned back and tightly clenched sockets. "...Come," he commanded once that click he was searching for sounded. "Before we're late."

The walk was silent, in stark contrast to the vivid, swirling emotions between the husbands. They went down a few halls until they arrived to the throne room doors. Cross squared his shoulders and opened them, stepping aside so the husbands could walk in first.

———

Spright and Respite agreed to watch the kids while Dream went out to visit Blue. It'd been a month since they'd last seen Ink and his husbands, and _stars_, it was starting to wear on Dream's morale. He figured Blue would have some good news, and even if he didn't, a half a day out of the house might do him some good.

He shut his eyes, counting to five, before knocking on Blue's door.

Slow, quiet footsteps were just forceful enough that Dream managed to hear them through the door. With every step, there was a strange noise that he realized was the sound of someone dragging their feet as he walked. Stretch then, he guessed, faintly recalling Blue often complaining of just how far his brother's lazy, sluggish personality made its way into everything the Papyrus did, including walking. 

The overwhelming distrust he sensed on the other side of the door was also a dead give away. 

When the door open, the scent of sugar and smoke filled Dream's senses.

"Hello, Stretch." he greeted, smiling even in the face of cigarette smoke being blown over his head. "Is Blue home?"

———

The trio of willing nightmares glanced in their direction as they entered, but all any of them offered up were simple nods with distrusting narrowed glares.

In Killer's case, he seemed especially wary as he eyed the three, his focus on Reaper more so than Ink this time as the memory of spreading decay flashed through his mind. _You're dangerous_, the look said, _and I haven't decided how fun that is yet._

Annoyance flared in the husbands, though Ink was the only one that let it out with a single sound, "Tch." 

Cross didn't bother addressing it. Instead, he silently ordered Reaper and Ink to stop by the willing nightmares before taking his place by Nightmare's throne. Unwillingly, Error followed suit, standing next to Cross.

———

Stretch took another long drag of his cigarette, exhaling it out before peering down at Dream with a deepening scowl. "No."

"No as in he's out in town? Or no as in he **is** home but you don't want me to come in?" 

"...yeah." 

Dream's smile grew taut. "Stretch, I'd really appreciate-" 

"I'm gonna stop you there. The Protector is missing. And you're here to bother Blue, who is busy with his own shit here." 

"His own...? Stretch what happened?" 

He growled, "Get the fucking hint and _leave_, guardian."

"Papyrus," a low voice warned. 

Stiffening, the tall, lanky skeleton muttered a curse and pinched the end of his cigarette between his fingers, faintly glowing embers singing the pad of his pointer and thumb as it extinguished. "Thought you were taking one of your rare naps, bro?" he murmured, waving lingering smoke away under the guise of greeting his brother.

Pointless, really. Stretch may be used to the scent of his poor habit, but that didn't make the smell of smoke and ash any less obvious to Blue. The Sans was well aware of his smoking. Had been for years. "Papyrus," Blue repeated, walking forward from the stairs with an unusually solemn expression. "Don't be mean to my friends."

Stretch faltered, "C'mon, bro. I was just-"

"Being mean," Blue interrupted with a tone that made it clear he would accept no more nonsense. At his brother's clear worry, he softened. "You don't need to protect me from my friends, Papy," When he turned to face Dream, the golden guardian took note of a faint, exhausted blue beneath his sockets. "Hi, Dream. Come in."

———

_How long does he plan to make us wait this time?_ Error wondered, back straight and head held high confidently. He wished he was half as confident as he looked. _An hour? Two?_ They were barely into the morning but he was already ready for this day to end.

Horror muttered something, pulling his axe out and resting his arms on it. Cross shot him a sharp look, but the other skeleton just ignored it. 

Killer wanted to do the same but he was still healing from the beat down he got last time he disobeyed orders. 

Endure stood tall and still. A statue to match his brother's doll, though Reaper wasn't sure if the Papyrus was even aware of it. 

Ink closed his eyes against everyone's colors and pains, hoping that by not seeing them, he could not feel them for a bit. It didn't exactly work, but it did lessen the developing headache he had from certain colors resonating within everyone.

———

Dream stepped in, murmuring, "Hey Blue..."

Blue cracked a smile, though it was clear his feelings weren't reflected in the motion. "You look as tired as me." 

Stretch frowned more, shooting suspicious looks to Dream and concerned ones to Blue. Both finally looked at him, with Blue saying, "Can you make us some food, Papy?" 

Sighing, the taller skeleton made his way to the kitchen, rubbing the top of his brother's head on his way there. 

Blue motioned for Dream to follow, and they walked into the basement where Blue sat heavily in his chair and dropped his head in his hands. Dream sat across from him in a tacky yellow and blue bean bag chair, waiting for Blue to speak. 

Thankfully, it didn't take long. "So... neither Ink nor his husbands have appeared yet..." Blue mumbled from behind his hands. "And I don't have eyes on Nightmare's castle to see if they're still alive or not..."

Dream's shoulders slumped, but his voice was firm when he said, "They're still alive." At Blue's hopeful expression, he mustered up a small smile to ward off the disbelief hidden in the other's eyes. "I know my brother, Blue."

The rookie guardian still seemed unsure. "I... don't Dream. What do you know about him that makes you so certain? Because there's been _nothing_ to hint at them being alive."

"Exactly. There's been _nothing."_ Rubbing the heaviness from his sockets away, Dream fought off a yawn and situated himself a little uncomfortably on the surprisingly soft beanbag. The less comfort he had, the harder it would be to fall asleep. "Nightmare gloats, Blue. No matter how small the victory, he lords it over you until there's no questioning the fact you've lost. If he managed to take out Ink, we'd know. Nightmare would likely use his dust as confetti for a parade."

"That's morbid," Blue scolded.

Dream simply smiled apologetically. He didn't let Blue know that was actually a very real possibility should Ink ever fall by his brother's hands.

———

Like a demon preying on what little solace it's victim found, Nightmare entered the throne room just as Ink's headache was mere moments from settling down completely. With his appearance, the sharp colors of his husbands rage spiked and Ink's head began to throb painfully yet again.

Poisonous green flickered in his direction. When Nightmare smirked, Ink _barely_ withheld a sneer. 

He almost certain that Nightmare timed his entrance.

_Tch..._ he didn't even know where to let his eyes rest. The safest bet was the floor... 

Reaper shifted his weight slightly, too many emotions rolling through him. He glanced to Error, who seemed to be trying to look as bored and confident as possible. The anger was hard to shove down, so he didn't, but Error shoved the rest down. 

Gracefully, Nightmare settled onto his throne and grinned down at them all. "Look at this... all my nightmares in one room. On time, dressed for success. Obedient." His eye flicked to Horror. "Mostly." 

Horror blinked at him. A sigh later, and the axe was put away, his posture straightening slightly more. 

"Hmm, better."

———

_Stars, Ink..._ the thought of the missing husbands made tears start to prick at the corners of his sockets.

_"Dreamy, what coffee are you having?" Reaper grinned at him._

_Stifling a yawn, the guardian muttered, "Anything as long as it has an extra shot in it..."_

He shut his eyes against the memory. His first date... taken away in the same day... 

"My point is," Dream murmured, "He's not dead."

It was almost heartbreaking to watch Blue's fragile hope grow just to crumble in on itself all over again. He was more mature than most gave him credit for, but Blue was still young. Not the youngest Sans out there, but one who looked as if he were with his soft, rounded features. 

"Dream..." Blue whispered, looking as defeated as Dream felt. Hesitant, he paused after getting his friend's name out before his worry grew too strong to ignore. "There's worse things than death, isn't there?"

Although he tried not to, Dream recalled Error's hysteria. The panic he worked himself into and the small, terrified voice he spoke in as the taller skeleton gasped _I c-can't be his again, Dream._ The words repeat in his head again and again, each time worse than before. Although it wasn't explicitly said, Dream's almost certain he knows just what Error meant. What being his brother's truly entitled. 

_There are things **far** worse than death,_ he doesn't say. Instead, tried for a wider smile. "Time heals, Blue. Whatever they're facing, we can fix." _Hopefully._ "Now, Stretch mentioned you had something going on? Is there anything you need my help for?"

———

It's childish, but there's a vindictive glee at the small error Horror made. The anger that Ink feels isn't entirely his own, but the red directed at Horror almost completely is.

And though it's a little frightening to admit, Ink is past the point of beating himself up over his rage.

The king of the castle took a moment to soak in their anger and hatred, smile growing wider. He licked his teeth, leaning forward in his throne with eagerness. "Ah, so our missions for today. It'll be... mostly a group activity." He glanced over to Killer and Horror again. "You two mentioned something about how we can trust our new family? I'll admit, I'm curious about that too." His eye slid over to Reaper and Ink. "Error has had a long _history_ of listening to my words, but the two of you are newer than Endure." 

Error tensed slightly, forcing his gaze to stay straight ahead. 

Reaper and Ink stared back at Nightmare, frowning. _What, does he want us to ask...?_

"What would you have us do?" Reaper murmured. 

"Oh, don't you worry god. You have a much more... _sensitive_ reason to obey me," he purred. 

_Geno..._

"But the artist?" Nightmare stood and sauntered over to Ink. "The artist is a different story... you punished Killer with no mercy. _Impressive,_ I told you, but that was something you _wanted_ to do, wasn't it?" 

Softly, Ink croaked out, "Yes." 

Nightmare trailed a tendril around the back of Ink's neck, tilting his head down to grin at him. "And what if I ordered you to do something you might be opposed to? Would you stick to the foolish ideals that landed you here, or would you follow my command?" He raised a hand when Ink opened his mouth. "Ah. That's what we're going to discover today. Actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

———

Nodding, Blue murmured, "Ink and his husbands aren't the only ones missing. There've been several missing monster cases across the multiverse, but..."

"But...?" 

"Well, there's even one _here_, Dream..."

That... that wasn't possible. That _shouldn't_ be possible. The eyes Blue had on the multiverse included his own world. For good measure, they were sure to tap into the cameras Undyne had scattered throughout the Swap Underground so that no corner went unobserved. Invasive? Yes, but required.

If the nightmares were the cause of this, Blue would have seen them. _Should_ have, really. 

"Blue-"

"I checked the footage, Dream." Blue interrupted with a quiet tone. "There's no sign of them anywhere, but only the nightmares would do something like this."

———

_Actions speak louder than words, huh...?_ Swallowing what could have been a sentence or bile, Ink lowered his eyes and nodded in response to the king.

Pleased, Nightmare called his tendril back. Cold and slick, it caressed every bit of the nape of Ink's neck as it retreated. The ooze that remained on the back of his neck tingled.

"Now, there's just one little question to answer before we begin." Seating himself on the arm of his throne, Nightmare tapped his chin with a thoughtful finger. "Just what should this grand task for you be, artist? I'm open for suggestions, if anyone has anything of interest to say."

Silence. 

Until a soft, "We can... play a _game,"_ came from Killer. 

Always taking his time, Nightmare surveyed Killer and the several unbandaged injuries sporting every available uncovered surface on the drippy-eyed skeleton. 

“What do you have in mind?” Nightmare questioned. Not a yes, but far from a no. 

Killer’s sudden excitement left Ink feeling ill. That bright, gleeful yellow... stars, _PJ_ lit up with that same golden hue in his eyes whenever his son was told he was going to learn a new skill. It was a childish sort of happiness. _Pure_. Around Killer, the kind hue was disturbing, especially with the bloodlust tainting the edges with shades of crimson.

“I need help figuring out which of my knives need sharpening.” At Nightmare’s unimpressed expression, he grinned wider and added, “And we have that one guest you wanted _interrogated_. Ya know, the one you think mighta saw something? It’s killing _three_ birds with one stone, Boss. No, four! I get to see what knives need sharpening, the guest gets interrogated, the artist proves himself to us, _and_ I get to have fun. Win-win situation, yeah?”

He let the emotions continue to sit between everyone. Stewing, festering, ripening. "Horror, Endure, grab our guest then go start preparing the dinner. Killer, grab your knives. Cross, find chairs for the god and the destroyer. Seems like our artist is going to create something beautiful for us today." 

The nauseous green color that began with Ink just seemed to multiply with Error's and Reaper's colors mingling in. The fouled giddiness Killer felt simply increased as he practically squealed and ran out the room. Horror nodded for Endure to follow him, and they left down a hall. Cross glanced to Nightmare curiously, but the King just shook his head, "You'll need ropes for our guests, but our new members should have enough self-restraint that they won't need them. Grab them the chairs." 

Ink's mouth felt dry. Interrogations...? He... he- 

_A bruise, a cut, a break. All with desperate, pained pants and muffled screams. "Wow, I thought Lust was the whore of the Multiverse! Turns out it's really the soulless wannabe-protector!"_

_"Did you know he can disconnect every single one of his bones without dying?" hands drift up his thighbones and Ink has to choke back a sob when the fingers scrape against the cuts they've made._

_"No way!"_

_"Yes! And since he's not telling us where Core is..."_

_Laughter rings. "He's forming his ecto! He must be really excited!"_

_No! He sobs harder. No, it-! I'm not excited! I-it's a defense...! S-stop...!_

_A slice splits the pretty rainbow of his stomach open, "Sorry sweetie," the hand's owner sneers, "We're not going to stop-"_

_"INK!"_

_D-Dream...?!_

"Ink," Error said again. Ink met his gaze, and his first looked... grim. 

Ink forced a smile and nodded slightly to him. 

In front of him, Endure was setting up the interrogation chair, though it looked a little odd... there were three pairs of armrests with locks, and locks around the legs. Horror came in moments later, dragging in-

———

"...how...?"

"I don't know... I... stars, Dream, I don't know...! I even _increased_ surveillance, after..." he glanced away. "I don't know, Dream... I went over everything several times over. I even checked the system for foul play. Nothing, which means it was probably a shortcut." 

Dream stared at the smaller Star. "Blue... Blue, who disappeared from here...?"

Weighed by exhaustion, Blue murmured, "That's part of the reason for Papy's poor greeting today. The person who's missing is-"

———

"Muffet," Ink breathed, horror in his eyes as he gazed upon the kind monster from Blue's world. 


	3. Eyes On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which orders must be followed.

"Focus, artist," Nightmare grumbled, "Or I'll let Killer give you a reason to focus."

Muffet was crying, but her tears fell faster when her eyes landed on Ink. She doesn't know him well, but she's seen him around often enough to recognize him as the friend of her favorite customer's brother. She's seen them laughing together from time to time. Once, Ink even crashed into her shop alongside Blue to drag Papyrus back home. She- he's good. She _knows_ he is, and she's so, so relieved when she sees him standing there.

With wet, inky eyes full of hope, she begged, "H-help me. P-please, _please_ help me!"

Swallowing, Ink looked away. He can't see her face, but he felt the way her hope _shatters_. "Wh..." his voice came out weak, so he cleared his throat. _Play the game_, he told himself, knowing full-well that this wasn't a game anymore. Yet still, _play the game_ echoed in his mind. _Play the game and we can go home…_ Games have characters, so he forced himself to stand tall and make sure his voice came out stronger when he tried to speak again. Right now, he isn't Ink. He's a nightmare. "What information do you want?"

Nightmare grinned, excited by his little display. "I admire your eagerness, but no details will be given until Killer returns with his tools. For now, why don't you let Cross show you how to properly tie a guest? It's a skill you'll need in the future."

Before he left with Endure to begin their second task, Horror had thrown Muffet into the interrogation chair. Despite no latches or ropes keeping her down, she sat in it instead of attempting to run. Not by choice, but due to the absolute terror reflected on her expression that made all her legs tremble too much to manage even a single step.

_She's terrified_... And Ink isn't going to be able to soothe that in any way. "Okay..."

He couldn't bring himself to look at either of his now seated husbands as he stepped up to the familiar captive with a blank expression contrasted by his expressive, wavering symbols. It didn't really matter. Hey could feel Reaper's frozen shock and horror, and Error's terrifying resignation. "Here." Cross murmured, handing him a long bundle of rope. The coarse, itchy texture was familiar in a terrible way that threatened to break Ink's already poor mask with panic. In an attempt to keep it down, he poured all his focus into Cross' voice; empty and cold, but… comforting in a fucked up way. "I'm going to lock her into the chair. See the metal cuffs? They go around her upper arms, forearms, and her wrist. For the legs, the cuffs go around her thighs and lower legs. The rope will ensure that whatever possible movement is left is taken away."

_"Should we tie his legs? Fucker kicks **hard**."_

_"No, leave them- actually, yeah. Not together though. Keep 'em open so we don't have to bother with prying them open later."_

Desperately forcing the feelings from the memory away, Ink swallowed his nausea and curled his hands tight around the rope. When the material bit into his hands, he simply clutched onto it tighter so that the purple of his pain grew stronger; grounding him to the present.

"This time, I'll do everything. You watch."

The first clasp jolted Muffet out from wherever she escaped to in her mind. At the feel of cold metal restricting her movement, her crying worsens; loud, ugly sobs echoing throughout the throne room. "P-please, I... I don't know anything! I p-promise I don't! I...I...I..."

"I, I, I," Killer mocked when he returns with a large box in his arms, "fuck, you sound like a broken record."

"Eyes on me." Cross quietly demanded, gaze flicking up to meet Ink's even as his hands never still in securing the captive. "Killer can be distracting, but ignore him for now."

"Well fuck you too, Cross!"

"Not interested."

_This is normal for them_, Ink realized. It seems like such a silly thought given who his company was, but the normality would mean... _Eyes on Cross_, he reminded himself, barely managing from tossing a horrified look Error's way. He... he can wonder about his first husband's possible experience with this later.

Getting the locks and rope around Muffet went by quickly. Although Cross tried to go slow so Ink can watch his movements, it's hard to shake the speed that comes with familiarity, and the task is finished in no time. 

Apparently, it wasn't fast enough for Killer. "Finally done? Good. I have forty knives to test with the artist and it's going to take _time."_

Amused, Nightmare cleared his throat slightly. "And...?"

"Oh, and Boss wanted that information, like, yesterday." Killer added, the real reasoning behind the torture forgotten in his excitement. "Orders, Boss?"

"Simple, this time. I want to know everything _she_ knows about us."

"I don't know anything!" Muffet shouted, desperation and fear raising her pitch. "I...I w-was just taking out the trash! I didn't- I made e-eye contact for a few s-seconds! Please, I- I didn't even k-know who you were!"

Ink had to bite back his words. _She really **doesn't** know anything… stars, this… this is-_

Nightmare ignored her claims. "If she doesn't answer by the time you've made it through every knife, then dispose of her. Also, let the artist lead the fun, Killer."

All the words seem to echo in Ink's mind. _"I don't know anything. Let the artist lead the fun. He must be really excited! H-help me. P-please please help me!" Keep 'em open so we don't have to-_

_ **"Eyes on me."** _

Ink stared at Cross. The ex-royal guard was the only thing he could see and for that single moment, Cross knew _exactly_ what the artist was thinking. 

_I c-can't do this, please... p-please I can't...! _

Cross' sockets narrowed slightly and it- 

_...Error's do that..._

_....Error does that when... when he..._

Ink shut his eyes. _Understands_. The next time the artist opened his eyes, he was giving a tired look to Killer, voice breaking slightly, "What do I do...?"

———

Once Muffet was killed and her dust cleaned up, Nightmare waved at Cross to take them back to Error's room. When it's just the four of them is when Cross glanced at Error and nodded to Ink, "You're probably going to have to carry-"

"I can walk," Ink whispered with a voice that had been screaming for hours, though he didn't utter a sound through the entire 'interrogation'. The four of them walked back to Error's old room, with Cross giving Ink a doubtful glance. His eyes flicked to the lavender bruises on his face that seemed to mirror what the Underswap Muffet endured. It's so light, it almost goes unnoticed.

But Cross was standing nearby to help prevent Killer's... _enthusiasm_ from cutting into Ink. Cross noticed. 

"Then keep up," Cross demanded. Error growled a warning note at his co-second, but Cross' eyes were already facing ahead. They walked down the halls in silence, until they reached the door. "You've been given two hours between now and dinner. Nightmare wants the three of you cleaned up. Nicer clothes will be provided. Make sure you wear them. I'll be by to escort you to dinner." When he got understanding nods in response, Cross turned and left. 

Error and Reaper waited until the door was shut before their hands were on Ink, hugging him tightly, finding the bruises, and insisting on checking for more- 

"N-no _stop!"_ Ink flinched away from them "P-please... please not... g-give me a s-second...!" 

_Muffet's pain, Muffet's death, Reaper's healing injuries, Error's swirling mess of colors, the residual feelings from the nightmares and their boss, the m-memories...!_

Ink gripped his arms, looking away from them. _Her blood was on him... stars, i-it was splattered a-all over him...!_

He couldn't stand the sight of it, but he couldn't bring himself to look away, either. He was trapped between the want to turn from the evidence of his terrible actions and the need to burn the sight of blood-stained hands and clothing into his mind as a reminder. A punishment, in a way. _I did this. I did this and I should never be allowed to forg-_

A jacket was dropped onto his head. It was warm and soft and smelled distinctively like Error. It... it.... 

It felt like a hug without the addition of emotions felt more intensely through touch. It... it felt like _Error's_ hugs from before Ink gained a SOUL; before he grew too tall to be tucked under his first husband's chin where he could hide away from all his worries and every fear he ever had.

Crumpling to the floor, Ink lifted his hands to clutch at the jacket thrown over his head and sob. Every tear he spilled was hidden by the coat, but could be heard in his voice as he cried and sobbed and wailed, "I...I'm sorry! I'm sorry! _I'm sorry!"_ over and over again.

Hesitantly, something brushed against his hand. When he flinched, the sensation of touch fades. _Concern_... he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't- he... 

"R-Reaps, what do we-"

"I... I don't-"

"We have to-"

He heard bits and pieces of their conversation, but he tried to tune it out. He doesn't want their comfort. He doesn't fucking _deserve-_

"He won't let us touch him, Ru!"

"Yeah, that's never stopped you guys from helping me!"

"That's different!"

"How?!"

_"You always **wanted** help, even if you wouldn't ask for it!"_

He thought he was still crying apologies, but Ink couldn't tell. When he heard a sharp intake of breath following Reaper's words- _stars, why can't he block them out?!_ -he isn't sure it's from one of his gasping sobs or from someone else.

"...We need to do _something!_ He- he's getting _loud_, Reaper. If someone hears-"

"-it'll be bad. _I know_, Ru. I just... fuck, let me try something, okay? I... I used to do this for Geno when his panic attacks got bad."

No, no, no! No, he doesn't want their help! Doesn't want-

Slowly, hesitantly, Reaper began to sing. 

And Ink...

He couldn't describe it. In a lot of ways, it was similar to Reaper's birdsongs; wordless yet lovely with the pretty notes that danced so smoothly between the highest of trills and the lowest of coos. It was similar, but not the _same_. It was... it was _sad_. Sad and mournful, like the sound of sobs turned into music. It made him cry harder.

But... but it was different, this time. All the torment Ink felt seemed to be reflected in the song, or maybe it wasn't? Maybe it was a single note tune and he was pushing meaning into it himself? He... Ink really couldn't tell. Either way, it was... comforting. He didn't want the comfort, didn't deserve it, but it was... it was easier to accept, like this.

Hearing his sorrow reflected in the song made it feel like he wasn't drowning in it alone.

His cries died down to shaky sniffles and hiccups just to listen to Reaper's voice. "Ink...?" Error whispered, but the artist covered his face more with the jacket. _I...I'm not ready... n-not ready yet..._

"It's okay..." 

Oh he said that aloud...? Ink slowly lifted his gaze to his husbands' as Reaper's voice faded. The shadows under Ink's sockets are much darker, and his face was splotchy from shoving his palms over his eyes. Reaper sat cross-legged a little ways away while Error knelt with hesitant hands just in front of him, but not quite touching. "It's okay..." Error repeated, more firmly. "It... hon, you need to forgive yourself. Anything we do under his orders is to protect Geno." 

"E...Err....r.....ror... R....Rea...p....e...er......" his voice hesitated so much that he almost couldn't get the names out. 

"We're not going to hold anything against-" 

"It's not.......not _just_ that...!" he whispered instead. "It's... I _felt-"_

"We know... we...." Reaper exchanged glances with Error before looking at Ink again, "Please, let us help you." 

_I don't want your concern. I don't want your pity, your fears, your... your...!_ Ink dropped his gaze. He lay the jacket in his lap so he could take the long-sleeve shirt off and- 

Soft, horrified gasps. 

"...I w-wasn't just _f-feeling_ her p-pain... it- she was too close..." Ink was shivering, sockets wide and empty. 

Every single cut that Ink and Killer inflicted on the Muffet was reflected on Ink's own body. They were paper-thin and the blood traveled with his engraved tattoos, which is why his shirt wasn't necessarily stained with it, but... 

_Stars_... "Ink..." Error hesitated in reaching for his hand.

Again, Ink flinched away, whispering desperately, "Please don't..! I'm n-not ready.... m... my _memories-"_ he snapped his jaw shut, expression going blank. 

"Memories...?" His husbands exchanged glances before returning their gazes to him. Reaper murmured, "Inky, what...? What memories...?" 

"Sorry?" Ink blinked and looked at him with a slightly confused tilt to his head. 

_It's forced_... Error frowned at him. _He's trying to mimic when he used to actually forget. He... doesn't want to talk about it._ Error took Reaper's hand, murmuring, "Let's give him a break, okay? It's... stars, it's only been the first day." 

"And it's still not over..." Reaper groaned, squeezing his hand. 

Error searched the god's expression before looking to Ink. "Hon, the shower down the hall.... would you like help washing your back....?" 

He dug his hands into Error's jacket, thinking. Yeah. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts and emotions but- 

_The hand dug into his split stomach ecto, reaching up until it hit his ribs. And in that moment, that's all he can feel. The hand, squirming inside his body, forcefully wrapping around a rib, then **pulling-**_

Ink whimpered at the memory, shaking his head, "N-not alone... p-please..." 

_"Wow, he's really just a doll without those paints. As empty as that void he spent time in. As useless too. He doesn't remember a damn thing that grey child told him about our deity-"_

_"Let him feed the anti-void then."_

Ink shuddered, hiding his face in Error's jacket again, whispering, "Not a-alone, please n-not a-alone... p-please don't..." 

Reaper looked to Error. "I'm going too." 

"Wasn't expecting our second threeway to be like this..." Error tried to smile, but... 

_What the hell memories did his idiot squid have to be triggered by-?_

_Oh..._

_Oh, Stars, Ink...._

Hesitantly, Error murmured, "Inky... h-have you-" 

Forcing another smile, Ink whispered, "I'm... _not_ going to talk about this.... n-not here..." 

_....Fuck...._

Reaper and Error exchanged glances, about to say something, but Ink was already struggling to his feet. "Shower time..." Ink tried for a sing-song voice, as if he were talking to the kids, but it came out half-silent.

_Stars, Ink_... Nodding with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, Error stepped in front of Ink and motioned to his husbands to follow after him. "If he's confining us to this hall, then no one else should be around. Still, Reaps? Can you grab whatever clothing looks like it's meant for Ink?"

Perfectly fake smile still in place, Ink opened his mouth to request something. Before he could, Error reached out and slid the jacket now around Ink's shoulders off. Luckily, little blood transferred onto the article of clothing. What did manage to get onto the jacket would be easily disguised by the dark color and a bit of cleaning. "You can wear this, too," the destroyer offered.

Ink's smile cracked slightly. _How did he-_ Oh, what a stupid question.

Error _knew_ him, of course. Despite all Ink was keeping from him and Reaper, Error knew him. Not everything, but nearly all the things that mattered, when it came down to it. "It won't fit," he whispered, even though he was about to ask for it anyway.

Error shrugged and folded his jacket over his arm. "Push the sleeves up and no one will be able to tell."

"Honestly, it'll just look like one of those fashionable cropped jackets," Reaper added, smiling through his worry and the painful throbbing in his skull unfortunately transferring to Ink. "You'll look like a model, babe. You're tall enough to be one, that is."

_They're worried_, their concern made his bones itch, but, deep down, he appreciated it. He still didn't feel like he deserved it, but... but Ink knew the concern was because they loved him, and he could accept _that_. Love...

At the end of the day, love was what all this was for…


	4. Salty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the dinner has some salty undertones.

Ink was almost certain those three sharp knocks would be the sound in his sleep for a long time if he couldn't get himself and his husbands out of here. 

Cross let himself in, bringing in some hangers of which Nightmare-selected clothes hung. Silently, he passed them to each of the husbands before leaving. 

They exchanged glances and opened up the bags- 

Ink stiffened at the immediate feel of fishnet mesh, but he slowly pulled out the dress and looked at it. 

There was no accompanying slip for the dress, but there _was_ a matching set of dark purple lingerie, and a pair of dark green heels with straps tying up the ankles. Nightmare's insignia shone brightly in toxic green on the delicate underthings and the heels of the shoes. 

Reaper and Error glanced over, for a moment mistaking the dress to be spider cobwebs. The horror of their realizations made tears form in Ink's eyes. 

_He also couldn't hide any of his injuries..._ Though the black of the fishnet _sort_ of helped... 

Reaper and Error pulled out their own outfits, dread laced in with the movement. Again, Reaper was fitted for a snug suit, this time accented with toxic green and purple, like Ink's lingerie. Error, surprisingly, had a similar suit, with similar accents.

Hanging his suit on the back of main door to their private quarters, Error glanced at Reaper before turning to Ink with a soft expression. "Inky-"

"I... I'm going to get ready in the bathroom," Ink whispered, faintly trembling as he held up his so-called clothing and shoes. _If I pretend, it'll just be me dressing up for you and Reaper._

Error went to argue, but the look in Ink's eyes stopped him. Something fragile shown in his symbols. Not quite broken, but a little cracked. "...We'll wait for you down here, hon. Bring Ge another blanket on your way down, okay?" He didn't look cold, but it would give Ink more time to collect himself.

Thankful for the escape Error allowed him, the artist clutched his things close before all but booking it up the stairs. Faintly, the door to the bathroom clicked shut, followed by the sound of a lock. 

"...That dress isn't going to cover anything, Ru," Reaper murmured, worried as he watched the ceiling. They couldn't hear Ink walking, but that didn't stop either of them from worrying about what expression the artist might be wearing now that he was alone. "It's-"

"Black," Error interrupted, pulling out Reaper's dress shirt and motioning for the god to undress. The less he worked his shoulder, the better, so Error would help with his clothing. "If we're lucky, the fabric will be too dark to see anything through."

"It's black _mesh,_ hon," _And we're never lucky. Not here._

Deciding that Reaper talking meant he wasn't focused enough on undressing, Error stepped into his place and took over the process of undoing the clothing his husband already wore. Shirt off, he began working on Reaper's pants until nothing but carefully summoned ecto covered his bones. 

"Not excited about my help?" he half-heartedly teased, barely glancing at the unveiled, uninterested magic the briefs he passed the taller skeleton were quick to cover.

"Heh, don't think there's much room in those pants for it to be any fun if I were," Reaper murmured, sliding his shirt on with Error's aid and buttoning it. When the pants were pressed into his hands, he was proved correct about the lack of room. Fitted. _Tightly._

As time went on, the two fell into silence as they first finished with Reaper's fine, uncomfortable clothing before Error turned his focused onto his own suit. Once they were dressed, Ink still had yet to appear so they each claimed a spot on either side of Geno. Careful of their suits, Error curled his hand loosely around his brother's wrist while the god all but fitted himself around the small glitch. 

By the time the sound of heels finally began clicking down the hall, then stairs, Reaper was halfway through the third birdsong he was crooning to Geno. 

The song came to an abrupt halt when Ink came to a stop before them.

Lovely rainbow marred by wounds shown through the dress, barely concealed by the unhelpful fabric gluing itself to Ink's summoned form. When he tried for a smile and made a small turn, both aware husbands bore witness to the way the lingerie failed to fully conceal Ink’s ass. Facing them again, Ink nervously crossed his arms, though it only succeeded in propping up the small breast made fuller and more pronounced by what _had_ to be a push up bra given what Error knew about his husband's body.

Had this mockery been their real home, seeing Ink in what he wore would have been sexy.

The knowledge of who else would see him paired with the humiliated expression Ink wore tore through any arousal that tried its damnedest to rise.

Before Ink could speak, Error was on his feet and stalking forward with a snarled out, "No."

"Error-"

"No," the destroyer hissed, trembling with the force of what he wished was only rage. When his eyes prickled from memories of the same humiliation he could see from Ink, he dragged the burn from his sockets as blue threads. "Spread your arms out at your sides." 

"Error," Ink murmured, embarrassed and so damn _defeated,_ "Honey, please-"

"We have less than thirty minutes," he growled. More, he needed more tears, so he clawed out every would-be droplet that wanted to fall. "Reaper, head upstairs and grab my coat and sash. Ink, I love you, but shut the fuck up. If I'm going to do this, I need to make sure it won't fall off."

Do this? Do what? "Error-"

But it was clear his first wasn't listening. So full of a rage Ink understood and an age-old pain the artist could only wonder about, Error blocked all noise out and set to work, uncaring of Ink and Reaper followed his orders or not.

They did.

———

Adjusting the tie around his neck for the umpteenth time since he first donned the damn thing, Cross finally decided that he wasted enough time stalling and stepped up to the one door in the entire castle he actually found imposing. Steeling himself, he knocked thrice.

"Enter."

Before Cross fully realized what he was doing, he was twisting the knob and pulling open the door, his brain still wired to that cold, commanding tone even after all these years. "Are you three-"

He paused, eye lights passing over Error and the god just to catch on Ink.

In place of the monstrosity he knew the artist ought to be wearing, Ink wore a tightly fitted dress that stretched from a modest neckline down to a handful of inches above his knees. Blue, the dress looked to made from cleanly cut and sewn fabric at first glance, but a closer looked proved that false. 

The dress was made of _strings._

Expertly, what had to be hundreds if not thousands of thin, criss-crossing lines formed an intimidation of a bandage-like pattern. Around and around Ink the threads went, a little messy in some places but overall a beautiful, impressive attempt at a dress.

And yet, the replacement gown didn't end there. Falling around the hem of the dress, Error's jacket was worn over what Cross was certain classified as a makeshift gown. For the most part, the jacket was left open, but a single latch held it close at Ink's waist with the yellow sash tied around to disguise the closed seal.

Almost mockingly, the heels were still green.

"...Nightmare isn't going to like this."

Error watched him eye Ink with cold, hateful glare, "I'll speak to him."

Ink shifted uncomfortably at Cross' eyes, stepping slightly behind Error, though his height even without the heels wouldn't have hid him much. He set his jaw, seeming to come to a decision with himself, he moved again to stand tall next to Error.

Reaper glanced to Geno, who wore a simple dark green skirt, a black button-up blouse, and thin purple leather belts that were more decorative than anything else. He wore black leather boots, though it was unlikely that Geno would be walking. He was still in an unresponsive state, and hadn't even budged when Reaper crooned to him or when Error changed his clothes. 

Error caught the glance and scowled more. "Don't," he walked over and picked Geno up, bridal style, before turning his furious glare onto Cross again. "Are we going or what, Rookie?" 

Cross sucked in a breath, getting ready to fall into his old complaints about not calling him that, but at the angry glares he was still receiving from the god, the co-second, and the narrowed, distrustful gaze from the artist, he let it out as a sigh, "Let's go." 

Again, they walked silently. Error followed immediately after Cross, carrying his brother with Geno's head tucked under his chin. Ink followed after Error, trying not to fiddle with the dress or the coat. Reaper followed after Ink, desperately wishing his injuries were healed so he could carry Geno. 

They reached the doors to the throne room, where Nightmare seemed to enjoy throwing feasts. For a moment, Ink froze, flashes of Muffet's blood and dust on his clothes and hands- 

Cross pushed open the doors, leading the husbands through.

Spotless. As if a murder had never taken place within these four walls, the throne room was entirely spotless, so much so that Ink actually had to glance down to ensure the gleaming floors wouldn't reflect his underwear. 

Thankfully, they didn't. It would have defeated the purpose of the new 'dress' he wore.

As they neared where the table stole away a sizeable portion of the area for itself, Ink faltered. His steps almost stopped completely, but a warning look thrown over Error's shoulder at the absence of noise from his heels had him walking again, though he had to close his eyes until he was sure he passed it.

Behind them, only a handful of feet away from the table, a purple-white, ghostly figure writhed in agony. An afterimage, like the one Ink once saw of his smallest husband.

Silently, guiltily, Ink decided he would sit so he faced away from it. Though, when he peered out at how the table was arranged, and at the willing nightmares as they walked in from the opposite side, he realized that he might not have a choice. He glanced again to the afterimage, seeing her screaming but not hearing anything. 

_At least, not if he didn't focus on it..._

_Small victories...?_

He glanced up at the sound of dress shoes echoing against the floor. The willing nightmares wore the equivalent of business casual. All wore a light green button up dress shirt, though Horror and Endure wore black slacks while Killer wore khakis. No ties nor coats were visible, and Killer and Horror had both rolled up the sleeves of their shirts to just above their elbows. 

Killer let his gaze drag up and down Ink's body, his grin turning dirty. "Shit, one tug and that would come loose." 

Horror did the same, though he seemed to put more effort into his dirty thoughts and feelings. He chuckled, "You should lose the coat, _artist_. It clashes with-" 

"I'm surprised you aren't whining about Killer not wearing a dress, _Horror,"_ Error spoke up. "Unless Nightmare got tired of you ripping them?" 

Horror dragged his overlarge eye to Error, noticing Geno still in his arms. "I'm surprised you aren't ripping dear _Inky's_ dress off. Unless you wanted us-?" 

"That's enough," Cross ordered. "The artist is wearing a dress. Get over it." 

Killer sneered, "Seems like someone _else_ is, too~!" he eyed Geno. "Wow, boss chose something more modest for your date, Crossy?"

Impatience flashed in Cross' sockets, easily drowned out by coldness. "I suggest you shut up before you lose dinner rights for the next week." 

Endure stood back and watched with barely concealed annoyance and disgust. He glanced away from the squabble as the doors opened- 

And Nightmare walked in. Naturally, the fucker was late. Surprisingly? 

He wore a _white_ suit. With a purple tie. 

Error grit his teeth. _That purple perfectly matched the color of Ink's lingerie...!_

So when Nightmare's eye glanced over to observe Ink, he was surprised that the dress he'd chosen for the artist wasn't the one hugging his body.

Positioned as he was in Error's arms, Geno passed for having fallen asleep sometime before their arrival into the throne room. Sooner or later, the truth of his brother's current state would come out. Likely, that would be the former with just how intently Horror was eying the glitch's limp form, but that was okay. 

For now, Horror's suspicions were not yet confirmed. And that meant one less predator to poke and prod at his brother as if he were a fucking toy. Two, since Killer likely wouldn't realize anything was off unless either told by his lover or faced with blatant evidence.

Endure, he wasn't concerned about. 

Still, Error wanted to keep Geno's current state a secret for as long as he could. Placing him in a chair would make it obvious with the way the glitch had to be positioned carefully to remain upright, and yet his first choice of who to hand his brother off to was injured, likewise with Ink.

Maintain his hold on Geno and risk leaving himself vulnerable or pass his brother to someone untrustworthy. 

_Yeah, fuck that._ Holding Geno just a little closer, Error slid himself in front of Ink with an expression so bland it bordered on cold. "Nightmare."

Displeasure pulled what would have been a smug expression into a scowl. "Error. I see you're all starting the celebration off with a bit of a foolishness. Shame, I expected better after the obedience the artist showcased this morning."

"Foolishness?" As if confused, Error tilted his head. His frigid stare never lost it's contact with the lord of despair as he said, "How is maintaining that obedience you're boasting about foolish?"

Nightmare's eye narrowed. "Don't play me for a fool, Destroyer. Remember your place."

"My place," Error murmured, arms and stance protective as he guarded the brother in his embrace and the husbands at his back. "I remember my place well, Nightmare. Do you?"

"You-" Nightmare began in a hiss.

Error had the audacity to interrupt, "Have been reinstated as second. Even if my position is shared, it is only second to you, _my king,"_ he mocked, red hot rage somehow so cold in his eyes. "Cross' absence after the delivery of our clothing meant that, by right, the artist and god were mine to command. So I commanded. And do you know what they did?"

And despite looking as though he held an over-sized doll, despite being shorter than the man he was protecting, there was something almost regal about Error as he kept his head high and his icy, hateful gaze on the king before him.

Interest replaced Nightmare's displeasure, "Tell me, Error, what did they do?"

"They _obeyed._ So, with that cleared up, why don't we begin this celebration for the god?"

Killer let out a low whistle, delight widening his eyes. Nightmare stared at Error, a low chuckle sounding once he realized how serious Error was. "I see. In that case, it's a simple matter of seating arrangements." He glanced at the table. "Hmm... since we had that bonding activity earlier, Inky, why don't you sit between Killer and myself? Reapsy, on my other side. Horror, by the god. Endure between Cross and Killer. Oh, and _Destroyer,"_ Nightmare flicked his poisonous eye to Error, "Hand Cross his _date._ It's more romantic for them if Cross feeds sweet little Geno if he wakes up soon, don't you think?" 

Reaper and Ink moved, ready to object, but the look Error shot them had them freezing in their tracks. 

Ink's SOUL churned at the **excitement** boiling up within Nightmare. When it looked like the taller husbands wouldn't argue, Error shot another glare to Nightmare before turning and stalking up to Cross. The fury radiating off Error was almost tangible as he carefully handed Geno to Cross' arms. 

"Now!" Nightmare clapped, grinning at them all, "Why don't we all sit down?" 

_Separating all of us, huh?_ Error grit his teeth, his anger still rising. 

Ink had to take several deep breaths to try and keep that rage from reflecting in his eyes. Especially after he got comfortable and felt a tendril on his calf.

It was just a little harder to keep back the fear and self-hate at the writhing shade of an image that sat between himself and the king of the castle.

Distantly, he took note that yet another tendril was now curling around his waist, extending as it found the small of his back and began a slow slide-

Ink's breath hitched. The afterimage wasn't the cause.

His dress didn't have an open back. Even before the modifications made with Error's threads, the poor excuse for a gown he was gifted to wear hadn't been backless. To feel the tendril sliding _up_ from his waist with nothing worming itself into his dress...

The second tendril wasn't on _him._

Seated on Nightmare's other side, Reaper shifted uncomfortably at the slick appendage working itself higher beneath his shirt.

Error's glare on Nightmare turned to ice. Nightmare merely grinned, "We're here to celebrate the god's victory against our very own Cross. A nice little feast for him." He leaned slightly closer to Reaper, tendril wrapping around the bottom of his ribcage, "It's such an honor that you chose to join us," he purred, tightening the tendril slightly. Reaper sucked in a sharp breath at the ribs shifted slightly out of place again. Ink bit down on his own noise of pain. 

Error wondered how much he could get away with if he snapped at Nightmare again. Probably, the deal with Ink's dress didn't help, but _he knew the fucker was feeling them up...!_

On Ink, the tendril on his calf circled up more, playing with the strings making up the bottom of his dress. 

Nightmare glanced down the table to Cross. "Comfortable there with your lap warmer? Heh, he's a heavy sleeper isn't he?" 

Cross mumbled, "We're fine, boss." 

"Oh I'm glad!" He grinned, glancing to the willing nightmares. Surprisingly, none of them voiced any complaints about dinner being delayed yet again. It didn't exactly stop the annoyed scowls on their faces, but at least they weren't being vocal about it. "For a celebration, I appear to be the only one talking. I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts over dinner," he added, lifting the cover on his plate. 

Taking that as a sign, the seconds lifted their covers as well, with the rest following suit. 

A seafood dinner sat before them. 

_Haha. Because I'm a bird. I get it._ Reaper tensed more at the tendril fondling the injured ribs. Ink squirmed in his own seat, trying to keep the tendril from moving any further up, but being unable to stop the one on Reaper.

A little desperate, Ink clamped his hand around the probing end of the appendage around his thigh. Slick as it was, his hand and fingers slid across the surface and the artist found himself containing a shiver of disgust at the feel of the tendril against his palm. Unhelpfully, comparisons of just what it felt like he was holding fluttered through his head-

_“Pet~”_

_What? D-disgusting...!_ mentally shaking his head, Ink tightened his hold on the foul, wet thing. He discreetly tried to unwind it from his thigh all while grabbing his fork with his free hand.

Just as he was about to skewer a piece of shrimp, the tendril _yanked_, jerking Ink forward by his own hold and downward by the thigh so that his face met the table with a loud, painful _thud_ barely an inch from his plate.

"Ink!" Chair scraping against the floor, Error shot to his feet.

Nightmare motioned for him to sit as he turned to the artist, helping him right himself. "My, my. What was that, artist? Not a fan of a seafood?" Mockingly, the very tendril responsible for the blood now on Ink's face retreated just to come around and pat his stained cheek. "Whatever that was, please be more careful in the future. This table is expensive."

Ink grit his teeth as he wiped the blood up, but he turned a charming smile to Nightmare, "I actually prefer octopus when it's completely fried, thank you." 

Error refrained from slapping himself in the face.

Unholy glee made Nightmare's eye light gleam. "Do you now? Personally, I'm a fan of _squid_, though I do understand the appeal of octopus. Sometimes, certain foods are required to satisfy one's cravings. In fact, I seem to require Error over there being quite the glutton for... _octopus."_

Anger burned through Ink. _What are you insinuating?_

Nightmare continued speaking before he could foolishly ask that question. As he did so; however, more slick sensations ran across Ink's form, one around the lower portion of his leg and another settling low on his abdomen. Felt, but not actually there.

_More phantom limbs._ More tendrils on Reaper.

"Did you know..." Nightmare drawled, the tendril fiddling with Reaper's ribs seeking out his slowly healing shoulder. "...that some prefer eating octopus raw?"

When pressure was applied to the wound, a sharp screech emitted from Reaper's plate as he jerked with the touch, his fork scraping across the dishware. "I d-did," Ink forced out, vainly attempting to keep attention on himself despite the purple bringing sweat to his brow.

The pressure increased. Narrowing into a fine, pointed tip, the tendril bit into flesh until blood began wetting the back of Reaper's suit. Deeper and deeper it went, every agonizing bit of movement forcing Reaper's jaw clenched tightly to keep his scream within. When tendril dived into bone; however, a small noise escaped him.

When that same tendril touched _magic_, the flesh spread across Reaper's form flickered and died with a hastily cut off whimper.

The appendages around his ankle and abdomen jumped into action. 

"Have you ever tried it for yourself, artist?" Nightmare questioned as if he never heard the sounds from Reaper and was blind to the clear pain Ink was failing to keep from his expression. "I heard that it's a strange sensation," restricted by Reaper's pants, the tendril around his ankle didn't get far. Unfortunately, nothing kept the other from creeping up higher, concealed as it drifted into Reaper's ribcage while the last kept itself against the god's wound. "It's writhes as it enters your mouth, apparently. I wonder..."

_Stop!_ Ink wanted to beg. _Please, just sto-_

"Does it squirm as it _makes it way into your throat?"_

When the tendril pressing itself into Reaper's magic removed itself, the appendages in the god's ribcage kept it from forming. Mostly.

Reflexively, a throat snapped into place, Reaper choking as the end of a slick appendages forced itself _up_ through his throat and into his sealed shut mouth, squirming and writhing against his tongue.

Killer groaned around a mouthful of his food. "C'mon, boss. That's fucking gross."

Horror frowned, "You coulda just told me the god wanted octopus, boss..."

Endure shuddered, a look of discomfort on his face. "I still fail to see the humor in such things...?"

"Eh, it's boss," Killer shrugged, discreetly pushing what looked like a tentacle from his plate. "You just learn to live with it."

Slowly, Nightmare slid his tendrils from Reaper, though the one still pressed against his shoulder stayed. "I was merely conversing with our artist." 

Endure hummed acknowledgement, but continued to pick at the sides on his plate instead of the seafood. 

"..." Ink glanced to Reaper. He knew how his husband was physically and emotionally... but he could only guess what kinds of thoughts were running through the god's mind. He took hold of the wine in front of him, downing it in one go. He set the glass down gently. "If the octopus is _dead,_ then regardless if it's raw, it shouldn't be squirming." 

Error glared at Ink. _Fucking idiot, shut the fuck up...! _

"True enough. But it's so _fun-"_

Cross slammed his fork down, green aflame on his cheeks. "Please... **please**..... for the love of what's left of my sanity... _stop talking about eating live seafood."_

Ink stared at him. _Did you know you can bite into a tuna fresh out of a river and be fine?_ Stars, he wanted to ask that so so bad, and Error knew it. Instead, Ink forced a grin, "Sure thing Second."

"...What about sushi?" Horror asked, more than happy to eat the pieces of octopus and squid being passed his way from Killer's plate. Pointedly, he glanced at one of the covered trays seated in the middle of the table. In total, there were three, spread across the length of the table to be picked at if people wished. "It's raw, but not alive."

Curiously, Cross reached out for a fourth tray. Careful to avoid jostling the glitch on his lap, he grasped the cover and opened it.

The dead eyes of a fish stared at him, the decapitated head floating in a bowl of a soup.

Horror grinned. "Wrong tray, Cross."

Displaying an amazing amount of adult restraint, Cross slammed the cover back on it and threw a sharpened knife at Horror. 

Who, of course, dodged it with his shit-eating grin still in place. Killer whined, "So, I'm still banned from throwing knives, but you're allowed?!" 

"It's because you'd actually hit your target, Kills," Horror chuckled. 

Cross' mask back in place, he readjusted his grip on Geno, checking to see if he'd awaken yet. _Nope..._ Error watched Cross closely before turning his gaze onto Reaper. He couldn't see his god husband very well from across the table, but he knew Nightmare. Knew what being next to him entailed. Knew that, whatever it was, he'd probably have to redo any bandages Reaper was allowed. 

_Fuck... the healing creams..._

Ink looked across the table to Error- 

His vision jerked forward with Killer slamming his hand onto his shoulder, "I dunno, the _artist_ has pretty good aim too!" Ink looked to him, seeing the wide grin. "Nice to see you in action on someone other than myself." 

_Not fear._ Never fear from Killer. _Admiration...? Maybe? Amusement and caution, for sure, but... did Killer actually admire Ink keeping his blank face...?_ Or was it more the brief control Killer had over Ink...? 

"Um... thanks...?" Ink reached for a second glass of wine.

Nightmare smiled with what looked like genuine joy in the expression. His cold gaze spoke of the truth, however. Even if his own eye hadn't betrayed him, Ink would have known the expression to be fake.

_There's nothing genuine about him. Nothing good or happy or kind. It was famil-_

"It's wonderful to see you all getting along," As Ink drained his second glass and reached for another, the lord reached out and snatched the wine from his hand and directed it to his own mouth. "I trust that today's little bonding moment between two of our nightmares helped shoo away any remaining suspicions about their loyalty?"

Although Killer was quick to nod, Endure's own silent agree was clearly a reluctant one.

Horror, quite obviously, neither spoke or gestured his agreement. At the expectant look from Nightmare to explain himself, the forever-injured skeleton straightened. "I don't know, boss," he murmured, his amusement from his small prank on Cross lingering in his smile, but steadily becoming overwhelmed by something not quite suspicious, yet close. "If you ask me, the god should get his hands dirty, too," Slowly, his eye slid to the glitch on Cross' lap. "And what about him?"

The husbands tensed, but Nightmare spoke first, "Genocide is... _special,_ Horror." His eye met Error's as he licked his teeth clean and grinned. "Very special. You don't need to worry about him." 

"Then that just leaves the god," Horror frowned at Nightmare. 

"What _about_ me, Horror?" Reaper muttered. He'd tried to continue eating, but every bite he put in his mouth brought up the unpleasant, slimy and squirmy sensations that were there earlier. After only a few bites, he'd stopped, unable to get past that feeling. He turned his empty gaze to Horror. 

"Indeed, what did you have in mind?" Nightmare smiled more. 

Horror rested his skull on one hand, pushing his food around with his fork before picking up a forkful. His overlarge light met Reaper's empty one. "Ya know boss, we haven't had _fun_ in an AU for a... _really_ long time. Have the god destroy one, and I'd consider him loyal."

Again, the husbands tensed. Ink reached for the bottle of wine as memories of Aftertale's collapse echoed through his entire body. Reaper and Error each exchanged looks as memories of Ink's dust resurfaced in their minds.

And yet, Nightmare seemed bored with the suggestion. "Such a simple task, don't you think, Horror? To command Death to bring about the very thing he is? It's like asking a toddler to drool. They'll do so on their own, without command."

Nightmare's words brought little relief to the husbands. "...What would you have me do instead?" Reaper asked quietly, a hitch in his voice as the tendril over his wound adjusted. 

"I've never owned a god before," _Owned._ Nightmare wasn't shy about naming them all his possessions, but the outright claim settled on Reaper's shoulders uncomfortably. "I want to... parade you around a bit, I think. Let others know divinity bows before me. What better way of doing so than to showcase the leash that leads to my hand?"

Frowning, Horror dragged the tray of off-putting soup to his side. Taking up one of the bowls, he questioned, "And what about proving himself? To me, it sounds like you just want to play with him," before taking up one of the fish heads and biting through scale and bone. 

"Why not to both at once?" Came the king's counter. "I have a...package I want delivered, preferably before it gathers anymore dust. Horror, you will go with the god tomorrow as he delivers it. Watch, but do not interfere unless provoked. God," Nightmare caught Reaper's eye with a smile, "if any attempt to prevent the delivery, end them. If they draw attention to you, end them. If anyone so much as catches a single glimpse of you-"

"-end them." Reaper finished. _In other words, don't be seen if I don't want to kill._

Smirking, Nightmare nodded and leaned back in seat. "The only creature allowed to live is the one the packaged is intended for."

"...I thought you wanted to show me off...?"

"I do," Nightmare chuckled. "To _him._ Will this mission be enough to satisfy you, Horror?"

After a moment’s thought, the skeleton in question offered up a nod, "Yeah."

"Good," Pleased, the king of the castle smiled. "Then let's continued with dinner. There's still time for dancing after our meal."

Ink paused with the bottle pouring wine into a new glass. He pushed the glass away slightly and set the bottle closer to himself. Error sighed heavily. _Why the fuck are we going to dance afterwards...._

Reaper lost himself in his thoughts for the moment. _Any **more** dust...?_ He... didn't have a good feeling about this... 

Killer patted Ink's shoulder again before continuing his own meal. The artist uncomfortably rolled his shoulders and crossed his legs. He looked down the table to Error, nervous about dancing in the dress he made. He didn't doubt Error's rushed handiwork, but he doubted the gentleness of his potential dance partners. 

Wearily, Endure spoke up, "Might we be able to skip the dancing tonight, boss?" 

"Are you still having doubts about our other nightmares?" Nightmare tilted his head. "I thought you said you didn't doubt their loyalties?" 

"I _don't,"_ though that word of End's was laced with the doubt he was denying, he charged through, "I just... don't understand why we must dance-" 

"We dance at celebrations, Newbie," Error interrupted. "It's how it's always been." 

"Says the guy who had to be brought back?" Endure frowned at him. "As far as I understand it, you abandoned everyone here- actually, boss? Yeah. I _do_ have doubts about this Second of yours." 

Nightmare smiled cruelly, gaze meeting Error's. "I must have forgotten to tell all of you. Silly me. Error never left us, nightmares."

"...the fuck does that mean?" Killer frowned. "Of course he did! He... he literally just _dipped out_ on-" 

"On an undercover mission, given by yours truly," Nightmare smiled wider. "Ah yes, I should have planned a better celebration for you, destroyer." 

_Lies_, Ink and Reaper thought simultaneously. _That's... that's a fucking lie..._

Error narrowed his sockets at Nightmare.

Horror looked between Nightmare and Error, his overblown eye full of suspicion. Like his fellow willing nightmares, he was doubtful of this new piece of information, and yet... _He always **was** so eager to please the boss._ An extended mission resulting in the capture of two major assets?

There's no way that wouldn't please Nightmare, if not in a different manner than what Error was not-so-secretly known to do.

_Interesting..._ but still not entirely believed. "Prove it," Horror challenged, unsettling eye light settling on Error. 

Eyes never once breaking the stare he was maintaining with Nightmare, Error barked, "I don't take orders from you, Horror." Anger in his eyes, he took a risk, "And if we're going to dance, then why not do it the old way, boss? The same partners, throughout the entire event."

Nightmare smiled, amused at the audacity he continued to show, "We have an odd number." He didn't push his reveal, but Error knew better than to think he would forget to mention it more.

"Endure doesn't want to dance? Fine, allow him to watch from the sidelines."

"And the partners you suggest?"

"Horror with Killer," Error replied instantly. "Reaper and Ink." _I'm sorry, Geno,_ "Geno can dance with Cross, if he wakes. If not, then End will take his place if watching gets boring."

_Error, you idiot._ Ink thought, wanting nothing more than to lunge across the table to shake sense into his first. _You're leaving yourself with-_

"Eager to return to my side, are you?" Nightmare asked with a chuckle, "Then again, I suppose there _is_ no reason to keep up our little act. And I'll admit, the last dance did remind me of just how much I missed having my true second near. Very well, Error. I'll accept this."

Horror scowled, “And that proved, what, exactly? That Error still yips out orders? I’m not buying it.” 

Ink tilted back the bottle, but no more wine resided in its pits. _Stars dammit..._ He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at the phantom pains he- oh... _oh it’s **my** shoulder that's bleeding too..._ He squeezed his sockets shut, wanting nothing more than to throw a whole temper tantrum right there. 

Nightmare, though delighting in the artist's darkening mood and the god’s self-conflict, shot a glare to Horror, “Are you doubting _me_ now, Horror?” 

A careless shrug, “Not at all, boss. Just trying to understand.”

Graciously, Nightmare motioned with his hand and offered the fresh bottle of wine passed to him to Ink who scowled, torn between rejecting the offered beverage he sought and downing it in a single go. _I don't want a damn thing you have to offer,_ he would snarl, had he been drunker. Or drunk at all.

"I suppose I can't fault you for that," Setting the bottle between Ink's plate and his own, the king of the castle returned his full attention to Horror. "Still, it's quite simple, isn't it? How does one go about converting the multiverse's most dedicated protector? How would _the_ protector, the most devoted of them all, be tempted to my side?"

Horror shrugged. "You tell me," he murmured, mind racing through possibilities. 

"Easy," Nightmare purred, "you give him something _else_ to devote himself to. Something he'd risk the very worlds he vowed to protect for. And oh, wasn't Error the perfect choice? Infamous and cruel as he is, all it took was an act of interest to draw in our artist. Not just him, but a god as well. Both of which who became attached not just to Error, but to Cross' sweet glitch."

_Fuck it_, Ink snatched the bottle of wine up. Finding it already uncorked, he tipped his head back and swallowed every last drop that flowed into his mouth. _I'm too sober to listen to this bullshit._

Tilting his head, Horror thought over the small bit of information. "...You've been using Cross' little boyfriend as leverage over _all_ of them, though."

Nightmare's smile was a wicked thing. "And who, exactly, do you think gave me that leverage, Horror? Or did you think it chance? A household usually so filled with life just so happened to be empty save for the weakest link on the day I decided we would strike? Luck, you could say. A coincidence." Chuckling darkly, he flashed a victorious smile at both the artist and god. "But in actuality, it was the result of a message sent my way. Just two simple words."

Bringing his half empty glass to his mouth, Nightmare murmured, quoting, "He's alone," before taking a sip.


	5. A Role to Fill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which actors need a break too.

The bottle shattered in Ink's hand before he even processed it happening. Surprise was clear on his face as he watched the shards clatter onto the table and the plate before him. _This drink isn't even going to touch me..._ For a brief moment, he longed for his paints.... "Tch..." he wrapped his hand in the napkin instead. He wasn't drunk. Not even tipsy. But he could play the part. He directed his next words to Horror, "Nosy ass."

Reaper avoided their gazes, staring hard at the still-full plate in front of him. It was hard to tell truth from lie with the king, and he didn't have a safe place to rest his gaze on, so he simply didn't. The turmoil within him grew against his control. 

Cross sighed. _Why were these idiots dragging this night so long...?_ He glanced sideways at Error, but found that he couldn't read the other second. _Probably for the best, but... what the fuck are you doing...?_

Error met his gaze, hate suddenly clear in those multicolored sockets. Cross kept the stare for another moment before glancing aside to pick up his own drink.

Horror raised a brow in Ink's direction. "Careful there, artist. Wouldn't want to slice open that dress of yours on one of those shards."

Words bunched together with a slight, purposeful slur, Ink muttered, "Shuddap, glory hole," before reaching for a glass. Water, not wine, but anyone in a drunken state would mistake the overly expensive crystal cup as a stemless wine glass. 

Killer snorted, the sound as unattractive as the water that spouted from his nasal cavity. Laughing as he choked, he brought a napkin to his face even as he howled out, "G-glory hole?! Is... is it-" he wheezed, "is it because of the hole on his skull?"

Endure fidgeted uncomfortably at the joke and the sudden ruckus Killer was making. 

"Yeah, don't wanna see any _other_ glory holes he has," Ink drank from the glass, screwing his face up slightly before continuing to drink from it. 

Nightmare chuckled at the spectacle before standing. "Well then, why don't we all get to dancing? The night is plenty young, after all."

———

The moment they made it back to their hall and the door shut behind them, Reaper bolted up the stairs to check on Geno while Ink whirled on Error, eyes flashing between reds and blues. "What the fuck was all that?!" he hissed.

Error shut his eyes, willing his tears to stay- nope, there they go. "Ink-" 

His voice dropped more, "You let yourself get felt up all night for a fucking bottle of **cream**?!" 

The destroyer's eyes snapped open. "To _protect_ you! To _heal Reaper!_ Ink!" Error took a step forward, darkness in his eyes, but desperation in his SOUL. "You expect me to fucking _sit there **knowing** he was fondling-?!"_

"Ru, you don't-"

"No! **You** don't understand, Ink-!" 

Ink grabbed Error's jacket and yanked him close enough that his next words were no more than a whisper for the destroyer to hear, "I understand much more than you think I do. Something happened between you two. You got really hurt by him. Hurt enough that you-" _you're scared of him_ "-you... but you still-" Ink dropped his hands to tangle their fingers together. "You got the healing cream? Good job. And what next? We use it for Reaper's wounds. He heals. _Just for Nightmare to fuck him up again."_ Ink met Error's gaze, while his whole body started to shake. "He worsened Reaper's shoulder again. He couldn't keep his d-disgusting-" _On your arms, your chest, your thighs..._ Again, Ink's voice was a whisper, "I know because I _felt it_, you _dumbass."_

Error tensed, staring up at Ink. "You... aren't you going to ask about-?" 

"It's just a game," Ink murmured miserably. "It's just... you protecting us... with another horrible lie that's going to backlash sooner or later." He stared down at the floor and dropped Error's hands. "I... I need to sh-shower...." the more he thought about the phantom tendrils all over and inside his body, the more _other_ memories started to crop up, and he didn't want to potentially have an episode in front of Error.

When he turned to leave, Error didn't try to stop him, nor did he call out. Instead, the destroyer stood stiffly with his eyes on the ground, listening as footsteps grew fainter with every soft tap until a distant door shut and muffled running water was heard.

Positive that he was alone for the moment, the destroyer quietly reached into his pocket and withdrew a small jar of healing cream. 

His hands trembled.

Droplets of tears turned into a steady stream.

And Error broke. 

Crumpling to the ground, he brought the healing cream close to his chest and curled around it as if it were something precious to protect. Voiceless, soundless, he sobbed. _Idiot, idiot, idiot,_ he scolded, tearing himself down with that single word. The more he thought it, the less he heard his own voice.

Eventually, it was the low, purring drawl of Nightmare's voice in his ears. _"Pathetic, Error. I'll admit that you have your uses, but what I saw from you today? Nothing but disappointment. Then again, that's your specialty, isn't it?" Crouching in front of him, Nightmare leaned in as he if planned to connect their mouths. "Being a disappointment. A burden." Softly, he whispered, "Worthless, really. Well, if it weren't for the way you make up for your mistakes so nicely, that is."_

_I just wanted to make you proud,_ The Error of the past thought.

Breathing raggedly, the destroyer of the present thought in relation to his husband, _I just wanted to help._ He couldn't heal. He couldn't protect them. He just... 

_"Failed," Nightmare hissed, "you failed me yet again."_

Funny how 'me' sounded so much like 'them'.

"Ru...?" Reaper's worried coo broke through his thoughts. Error startled, tearing his gaze away from his godly husband as he approached cautiously. Reaper knelt next to him, and hesitated. "Error, honey, can I... may I... um..." 

Error listened to Reaper move away, then come back- 

Several blankets wrapped around Error. Reaper got himself comfortable next to him, and pulled Error into his embrace, wrapping his arms and crossing his legs loosely around him. Somehow, that made it worse, and Error dug his face into Reaper's chest, letting the silent but violent sobs out into the god's sleep shirt. 

Whatever doubts Reaper had begun to have about Error actually betraying them were gone. _There's no way he could fake these tears._

_Unless he's just that good of an-_

Error pulled away slightly, showing Reaper the bottle of cream. Curiously, Reaper took it and read the- oh... "Ru... oh honey, how did you-?" Error glanced away, and the god understood. He took in a deep breath, but his own tears still formed. "Thank you..." with a gentle nudge, Reaper pulled him back into his arms, nearly cradling him against the chest, and ignoring any and all pains it was causing him. _He did that for us..._

Though Reaper also thought about the cream being wasted on him, Error didn't have to do it. He didn't have to _try._

_It could all be an elaborate scheme..._ doubt whispered to the god. "Geno's still... out of it..." Reaper murmured, interrupting that negative voice in his mind. "I'm not sure what we can do to help him, but he doesn't seem any _worse_ either..." 

Error didn't say anything. Couldn't, even if he wanted to.

Gently, the god began rubbing a hand up and down the shorter skeleton's back through the blankets. _He loves Geno_, he reassured himself, discomforted by the small part of him that couldn't seem to latch onto the belief. "Do... do you want to help me make him a little more comfortable?"

_He loves his brother, Ru wouldn't just give him up like that._

Again, that terrible, sly voice whispered, _But they're not actually brothers, are they? Besides, what do you know about their relationship? How they even-_ "We can drag a mattress down there. Make a big nes- um, comfortable space for us on the floor. The four of us could cuddle, if you're up for it...?"

And, if Error was able, the four _could_ do so, couldn't they? Because-

Reaper's gaze softened. Full of what Ink would have sighed over dreamily and called the softest shade of pink, the god pressed a kiss to Error's skull through the blankets around him. "Since you got me the cream, it won't hurt."

Error squeezed his sockets shut again, wriggling slightly to uncover his arms, he turned in the embrace and wrapped his arms around Reaper's middle. With his face pressed in Reaper's chest, and his voice still refusing to work, Error nodded once, shortly. He pulled away slightly to tug at the strings that had begun to pile uselessly in their laps, and he busied himself with making a large, room-sized hammock. Reaper watched patiently, humming a little tune to keep the bad thoughts at bay. 

_We made a vow. In sickness and health. The four of us held hands, swearing those words to each other. I... I heard them ring true for all of us._ Error was still in his suit as he finished the hammock. 

Reaper glanced up the stairs where the shower was still running. _...how long has it been running for...?_ "Um... Ru, why don't you change real quick and set up the... comfort space? I'll check on Ink real quick." 

Error's lights glanced up to where the shower ran, a deep sadness and worry reflecting there. He nodded again, and the two walked up the stairs, with Error disappearing into the bedroom. Reaper knocked on the bathroom door. "Ink?"

Abruptly, the water shut off. "...Yeah?" Ink called back, voice bright in a way that meant he was faking his cheerfulness.

Already worried by Error's distressed silence and the tears soaking his clothing, the god curled his hand on the door, ready to barge in. First, he needed to ask permission. Nightmare took enough from them with every command he forced upon them. Reaper wasn't going to steal away anymore of his husband's rights. "Can I come in, hon?" silence. "Inky? Um, if not... do you want me to grab you some clothes?" 

"...Yeah, hon," Again, the forced cheer, "to... to both things."

Luckily, gathering clothing for Ink to wear wasn't a difficult task. In less than a handful of minutes, Reaper had the softest pajamas he could find in Ink's size slung over an arm and was entering the bathroom.

Thread was the first thing he noticed. Yards and yards of blue string scattered across the floor alongside mesh and lingerie.

Reaper ignored it in favor of meeting the eyes that peer at him from around the shower's curtain.

Those wavering lights with the random colors and symbols. Reaper stepped closer, just for Ink to hide a little more behind the curtain. The god blinked, stopping, "Ink..." 

"Y-yeah? That's me!" he smiled. 

Reaper stared at him. "How hard were you scrubbing yourself...?" 

The artist blinked, smile faltering. He glanced away and let the curtain open up more, and when Reaper took another step forward- 

_Stars..._ fresh scratches were visible all over Ink's bones, and the dark blood that flowed from them darkened the bottom of the tub until it almost looked like the tub was meant to be black. "Ink..." 

The artist avoided his gaze. "It'll heal-" 

"Just because it'll heal doesn't mean you should be hurting yourself like this...!" 

Ink flinched, shrinking in on himself. the god moved closer, setting the new clothes on the back of the toilet before kneeling by the tub. "Inky, why...?" 

"It wouldn't stop... it... none of it would...!" he shuddered, whispering, "I saw her the whole night." 

Reaper tensed slightly. _Muffet..._

Ink stared ahead, gaze hollow. "H-he put himself in d-danger for the cre-" 

"I know." 

"He shouldn't have-!" 

"He was trying to protect-" 

"That's **my-**" 

"Not here, it isn't, Ink," Reaper's hand rested on his shoulder. "Your knowledge about this place is severely limited only to what you remember of fights and your Star squad thing. Error has _lived_ here. He understands this place better. Ink, you cannot protect us here. Hell, I can't either. I know even less than you do. Error-"

Ink shook his head sharply, growling, "He didn't betray us. He- I know Error. He wouldn't-" understanding dawned on Reaper's face. 

_Ink was doubting too... if just for a moment..._

Self-hate flared in Ink's sockets just before he shut them. "He wouldn't betray us, but he _would_ try to make it convincing for them... the _idiot-"_

"Says the pot calling the kettle black?" Reaper smiled faintly. "Hon, we need to trust each other." 

Ink murmured, "What we need is-" _a plan to get us all out of here... But without Geno's SOUL..._ He sighed, "We..." 

"Need to all talk together some point soon. But right now? You need to get yourself cleaned up for some TLC-" Reaper's sockets had drifted down to the self-inflicted wounds- _that had already healed_. "Oh. Well, you still need to actually shower," He rose from his spot and started to leave, but Ink's voice stopped him momentarily: 

"Can you... roll up the thread please...?" _Can you stay a little longer...?_

Reaper nodded.

———

When Ink and Reaper emerged after a short time, Error was already changed into his night clothes and had gotten Geno a little more comfortable in the hammock. He was trying to feed his brother some soft solids through some magic, which was thankfully working, but Geno's unresponsive form was still unnerving. The destroyer glanced up with tired eyes and motioned for the two of them to come over. _You're getting this cream on your wounds, even if I have to tie you down to do it,_ his stubborn expression read.

Ink helped Reaper up onto the hammock before crawling on for himself. "Ru...?" 

As Error applied the cream to Reaper's shoulder, he flicked his sockets to his first husband. _Weary. Guarded. Uncertain. Maybe more of that desperation deep down, but-_

Ink couldn't help the small smile at the pink that was still there. _He wouldn't betray us._ The artist dropped his gaze, "I'm sorry for-" 

"Don't..." his voice was hoarse.

"Ru-"

"Don't, Ink. I...." 

_"You want an apology? Oh Error, I'm afraid you simply don't deserve one."_

"...It's okay..." he murmured, no real anger aimed at Ink. "Can... can you grab more food...? Geno probably needs more than what I gave him..."

_Because of the baby,_ he very pointedly did not add. He didn't want to think about that right now. Not with eerie phantom limbs stroking across his form.

_It's not okay...!_ Ink wanted to scream. Actually, he wanted to take Error's title and absolutely **destroy** the place. He wanted to rip this entire castle to shreds- but... that wouldn't help right now. Shoulders slumping even more, Ink murmured, "I'll be right back..."

"Error... honey, you know we-" 

"I don't want to talk, Reaps."

_"Unless it's those pretty little sounds of yours, I don't want to hear a single thing from you for the rest of the night. Actually, the week. I tire of your poor excuses."_

Practice stole the sound from his next sob. Thankfully, the few tears that fell were easily brushed away under the guise of grabbing more cream for Reaper's shoulder.

"Error..."

_"Come now, don't tempt me with that pitiful expression of yours. You know your tears make me weak, lover." Too tight of a grasp took hold of his chin. "I simply adore the pitiful way you cry. Pathetic, yet appealing. Just like you, lover."_

"N...not now..." _Stop, stop. Please just... stop._ "I... Not now, Reaps. Later, okay?" Later, when past touches and words didn't haunt him. When he could hear an apology and let himself accept it.

Watching as the last of the wounded bone melded together, Error double checked for any spots that may have been overlooked before focused on Reaper's ribs. They had to be nudged into place, but the god braved through what was becoming familiar pain for bone to align then come together under gentle fingers coated in tingling cream. 

"Thanks, honey." _For the cream **and** for the help._

Nodding, Error carefully scraped off what remained on his fingers back into the jar before sealing it and stashing it into his inventory. Suspiciously timed, Ink reappeared just then with a bowl of microwaved soup in his hands.

Ink paused, standing just next to the hammock, but staring almost helplessly as he tried to figure out how to crawl in without spilling any soup. Reaper noticed, and extended an arm out to take the bowl. The process to get everyone situated was much like that: a strange silence with them readjusting until they were comfortable. 

Reaper took over for trying to feed Geno while Ink sat cross-legged near Error, looking at him uncertainly. Error stared at him, sighing heavily when it didn't seem like the artist was getting the hint. He lifted his own shirt slightly and pointed to Ink's shoulder. The artist shook his head, "I'm fine." 

"Ink, just... stop trying to keep us from worrying," Reaper sent him a look. "Because it isn't working." 

"I'm serious, I'm okay now..." he muttered, but still pulled his shirt over his shoulders. 

The one that had reflected Reaper's injuries was completely clear, aside from the resulting scar. The tattoos surrounding it perfectly showed where the injury had been. Same for the broken ribs. Error blinked in surprise, but tugged at the shirt until it was completely off. Ink glanced at him, following his eyes to the- 

_Oh right..._ the puncture wounds from Nightmare's claws... they'd healed somewhat, but... not as fast as anything else. He sighed, laying back against the hammock to let Error pull the cream back out and swipe it across the punctures. 

The injuries sustained from reflecting Muffet's and Reaper's pains were gone, leaving behind the faintest of scars that interrupted several of Ink's beautiful, swirling tattoos. Instead, it was the injury given by the king of the castle, and those sustained by Cross and Killer that were left. Though the latter two have mostly healed, whatever Nightmare held within his goop was making it annoyingly difficult to heal properly. _Probably some sort of anti-healing bullshit..._

Ink flinched at the tingling, shutting his sockets, even after it was over, and murmured, "Thank you, Ru."

Error shook his head, though Ink couldn't see. _Don't thank me..._

Same as when Reaper's wounds were finished being treated, Error carefully scraped off every last bit of excess cream that he could salvage before closing the jar tight. There was still quite a bit left, but who knew how long it would remain that way?

Once he had it safely put away, Error let himself fall back against the support of the hammock, though he was sure to move slowly enough that the bowl of soup Reaper held wouldn't spill. Geno and the thing-he-wasn't-thinking-about needed as much as they could get.

Ink reached down and took hold of Error's pinky with his own. "We're going to be okay," he murmured. "W-we're going to figure things out and we're going to be okay." 

Neither of them said anything. Reaper continued to try and feed Geno as gently and slowly as he could. He took the time to blow on each spoonful before attempting, but still he tried. 

Error on the other hand... he knew better. Maybe they would be fine, but it would only happen after Nightmare's had his fun. After he's wrung every positive feeling and memory from each of them, and even then, it still probably wouldn't get better. 

Ink trembled slightly at their silence, but couldn't come up with any words to fill it.

Words...

Again, Ink let his eyes fall shut. _Please..._ he begged. To who? He wasn't quite sure, but the plea helped fill the silence in his head even as the one within the room continued. _Please, please just... just..._

Heh, he didn't even know what to say. Safe in his own head and he still couldn't find a way to comfort himself, let alone his husbands. He just... he wanted them safe.

Happy.

Ink wanted everything good thing for his husbands that Nightmare would gladly rip away from them but he had no means of offering them...anything, really. Not comfort, or even a simple smile.

He... he couldn't _reach_ one of them with words alone. 

_What kind of protector are you?_

He curled in slightly on himself. _A shitty one... a month.... a whole fucking **month**, and we dug ourselves a nice little grave here..._ Curling further, he clung to Error and buried his face in his husband's chest. _I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!_

But why was he sorry? It wasn't _him_ that brought this down on them. It wasn't _him_ that had watched his family for stars knows how long. It wasn't_ him_ who tortured and r- 

Tears squeezed themselves free from Ink's tightly shut sockets. _But I should've.... I should've stopped it somehow...! I should've known, right...?!_

_“He’s gone…! He’s **gone…!**”_

_….who…**who** is gone?_

_I… I don’t-_

No... he had no idea how bad Nightmare truly was. What limits he'd happily breach. What limits he _did_ break. _Ink had no fucking clue. About **anything.**_

Feeling his shirt dampen, Error shuddered and wrapped his arms around Ink. _Why are you crying...?_ There were so many reasons for Ink's tears, but he worried over which one was responsible. _Inky..._

Glancing at them, Reaper caught Error's eyes with a sad, troubled gaze. Dropping his stare down to the bowl held between his hands, he slumped. Half-full. A little more than half, actually...

But he couldn't get Geno to take in anymore.

Defeated, he dropped the soup into his inventory. He would have to remember to remove it before it spoiled, but he didn't want to leave their hammock at the moment to take care of it properly. Instead, he told himself he'd probably remember and let himself believe it.

"I'm gonna move you, Gen..." he murmured, carefully adjusting the glitch so that he would be sandwiched between both his husbands should Ink decide to unlatch himself from Error. "Should... should we try to sleep...?"

"Yeah... if I know that asshole, things are only going to get worse..." 

Ink made a near whimpering noise, gripping Error tighter. 

Reaper lay next to them, reaching one of his arms across them all to try and hold them together. Though it was horrible, he was glad the four of them were together again... 

_Five..._

The god shut his sockets tightly. _Geno's baby... it's Geno's baby..._ "Okay... okay let's try and sleep...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TK: Gonna slow down chapter posting so we can edit! 
> 
> Also TK, whispering frantically to Gold: We need to post it feels weird not posting, we need to post-
> 
> Gold, bouncing eagerly: Yessssss


	6. Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we follow a... different perspective for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Potential Triggers**: Threats

There was precious little he wanted to do anymore. Especially since the husbands- since _Error_ was back. Everything was a bigger chore. A more and more difficult test of wills at every turn. 

But now, he approached the door, letting three sharp knocks announce his presence. 

"Enter," came the muffled voice. If he were being honest with himself, he hated that voice. Almost as much as he hated his own. 

But here wasn't the place for honesty. _Now_ wasn't either. 

As far as everyone needed to be concerned, he worshiped the voice on the other side of the door. 

When he says enter? Cross does. 

Nightmare stood staring at two outfits, both equally stunning in their own rights. He glanced over, though no smile nor smirk graced his expression. "Cross," he greeted a little too familiarly. 

_What do you want me to respond with today...?_ Cross wondered. Instead, he inclined his head, keeping his hands behind his back, "My king." 

When no tendrils whipped at him, he knew he chose the right title today.

Nightmare motioned to a nearby chair. "Sit, if you wish to do so. We have much to discuss and I'd hate for you to tire before we're through." 

"No thank you, my king." Like a good little soldier, he'd remain on his feet; spine straight and eyes alert for any danger beyond the threat who smiled at him now. "If I may be so bold to ask... what orders do you have for me today, m'lord?"

The king's smile was equal parts amused and pleased. Out of every nightmare beneath his control, Cross was the one who confirmed to fit the roles assigned to him the best. Loyal second, dastardly villain, puny lackey... it didn't matter what it was. If Nightmare demanded Cross to play a part, then he played it. _Perfectly._

"Your orders will be given soon enough. For now, I'd like your opinion on a few things. If you're willing to offer it, I mean."

Cross' gaze flickered to the clothing Nightmare was eyeing. _Another outfit for Geno?_ he wondered, though he didn't dare voice his question. Nightmare was waiting for a response, after all. "Of course, my king. What is it you'd like my input on?"

"Well, I suppose it's less of an opinion and more a series of answers for a few yes or no questions. You see, Cross, I recall ordering all of my nightmares to dance last night after dinner. I did, correct?"

"Yes, my king."

Nightmare's gaze sharpened. "So, we agree that it was an order that everyone dance."

"Yes," Cross murmured, wariness expertly hidden behind a mask.

"And are orders optional?"

"No."

"I see..." A smile slithered onto Nightmare's face. "If that's the case, then answer me this, dear second... Why is it that you returned dear little Genocide to his room last night? We agree that I ordered everyone to dance. We _also_ agreed that following my orders is not optional, and yet, did you not disobey me last night? Did tucking poor, slumbering Genocide into bed mean that, not one, but _two_ of my nightmare's failed to abide by my rules?"

"Respectfully sir, it's my understanding that Genocide is following your doll command until otherwise commanded by you again," just barely refraining from fidgeting, Cross continued, "Therefore, it is just myself who failed to follow your command... myself and Endu-" 

"Endure _could_ have had a partner, if you returned promptly. Tell me, Cross, where did you go? Unless..." his smirk widened, "Did you perform a... dance of your own with my doll?" Clicking his tongue, Nightmare shook his head, "Dearest little second, I could have _sworn_ we had a conversation about _touching my things."_

Unnerved, Cross took a shaky step back.

And just like that, he was a pathetically helpless rookie once more.

_After already losing everything you knew and loved once before, you'd think that deciding on what really mattered in life would be easier. Friends, family, a roof over your head... Which was the most important? If you could only choose one at the cost of losing the others, then which should be selected? Which ones ought to be thrown away? Cross had them all ripped from him before, so getting to keep one now? It should have been a privilege._

_And yet, the great loss he experienced made him greedy._

_Friends, family, a roof over his head... those were only a few of the things he had to choose from in order to decide what to keep, but Cross didn't want to choose at all. After all his loss, he didn't want to have to give up a single thing he had now. Not his friends, not his room, not the safety provided by the castle walls..._

_But keeping all those things meant giving up something special._

_**Someone** special, and he... he didn't know if he could do that. No matter how reluctant Cross was to part with everything he had come to know and claim for himself as a nightmare, he just... didn't know if keeping all of it was worth losing-_

_"There you are, Rookie."_

_"E-Error!" Cross yelped, whirling around with widened sockets. "What are- I thought-" Pausing, he glanced around them nervously. Hesitantly, he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Error, what the hell are you doing here? I... I thought you said you'd be out of the castle now?" For good._

_"I was forgetting something... no..." Error stared at Cross, a near hesitation in his face, "S-some**one.** Cross..."_

_"Y-yeah....?"_ No way! N-no way, he... does he really have feelings for me too...? _Cross tried to clamp down on his nervous excitement._ He... he can't right? He's going off with- 

_"Will you come with me?" Error asked, hesitantly holding a hand out._

_Feeling like he was floating, Cross felt his expression soften. "Y-yes." More firmly, he said, "Yes!"_

_"That's..." Error's face started to drip, and his hand tightened around Cross', "...so nice..." his voice distorted, and goop poured from Error's orifices, "...to **hear**..." and there stood Nightmare. A green glowing eye shone in his socket. "But... perhaps I heard this wrong?" he asked innocently. "You aren't running away with one of my toys, are you?" His voice mocked Error's as he added, **"Rookie?"**_

_No... no, no-!_

_Nightmare smiled knowingly, but didn't release Cross' hand. "Strange, isn't it? All these years as a nightmare and yet you've never once concealed yourself from me. Your emotions... I've always felt them, Crossy. Until recently, that is," If anything, that grip tightened, until a pain blossomed in the bones. "Even now, I cannot tell what you're thinking beyond the shock and fear in your eyes. I wonder what the reason is for that change is. I wonder **who** the reason is... I mean, had I not known better, I would have said that reason was Error, but we both know that couldn't be." Nightmare's gaze was sharp, glowing even brighter. "He's **mine**, after all. And I think you're smart enough to know that I'm not one to share."_

_"N-Night-"_

_"Oh you poor child, don't try to play innocent with me. He **abandoned** you. Abandoned **us**."_

_"N-no... you- you let him go-"_

_"Ah so you know about the five years?" Nightmare chuckled, pulling Cross in closer, wrapping his other arm tightly around the nightmare's waist. "How about... you and I make a deal now... since it would be such a shame to see you try to run off after my things."_

_"B-boss, I-"_

_Foul slick smeared across the surface of Cross' tongue as a tendril pushed past his teeth to silence him. Instinctively, Cross flinched back and screamed, but the tendril only slithered in deeper as Nightmare pulled the struggling skeleton closer with the restrictive arm around Cross' waist. Deeper and deeper the tendril went, stealing air and muffling screams as it forced itself as far as the nightmare could handle. And when that limit was reached and Cross began to choke and gag? Still the tendril pushed on until a throat formed around it and panicked tears prickled the other's sockets._

_"You know..." Nightmare murmured, breath hot against Cross' summoned throat. "Without Error here to warm my bed, I worry that I may grow... lonely. Perhaps we should strive to fix that with our deal? I'd get the... **company** I do desire and you... Well, you'd have little strength left in your legs to run after my toy. Mmm, and you are so very fit..."_

_Teasingly, the king slid a hand beneath Cross' many layers. When he felt the smooth surface of magic made flesh, Nightmare smirked and blindly traced the faint outline of forming abs; a testament to the effort Cross often put into his training that often left him feeling prideful._

_Now, with the king's slick palm flat against his abdomen, Cross only felt terror. He knew exactly what Nightmare's fondling could lead to. The hand beneath his shirt, the tendril creeping into the leg of his shorts... Cross **knew** what awaited him should the king choose to continue, and he feared it._

_Through his rising panic, Cross briefly thought back to Error: **"Rookie, if Nightmare ever comes onto you, you run. I don't care what the stakes are, or what the situation is. If he tries to get you into bed... Fuck, just run. Don't... don't make the same mistakes I did."**_

_ **Don't let him hurt you too, Cross.** _

_Nightmare must have seen the fear in his eyes, because he paused. Not out of mercy, but simply because the king wished to revel in the evidence that Cross feared him. "What's the matter, Crossy?" he purred, lazily grinding into the teary eyed, frightened rookie. "Could it be that you're not interested in the deal I proposed?"_

_Desperately, Cross shook his head._

_"Pity..." Bored now, Nightmare released him; arm, tendrils, and wandering hand all withdrawing just as Cross' mouth was freed from the slick tendril muffling his sounds. "Well then-"_

_Air rushing in too quickly and panic too high, Cross doubled over and gagged. It was a foul sound quickly followed by a painful retch as black sludge was expelled from his mouth._

_Expression one of displeasure, Nightmare frowned. "Clean that up once you're done. I don't want to continue conducting business with the scent of your sick soiling the air."_

_Watching as the rookie followed his command, a thought occurred to him. "There is the matter of a new Second I need to consider."_

_Terror gripped Cross tight, pausing his efforts to clean his mess, and that feeling only increased once one of Nightmare's tendrils cupped Cross' chin, tilting his head upwards towards the now smiling king. Despite the desire to not... conduct business there, he seemed to be... formulating something in his mind. "I **could** be convinced to let my precious Error stay wherever he ran off to if I had a suitable replacement...." smiling wider, Nightmare murmured, "Ah. How about... I make **you** my new Second. Follow my every command. My every will and whim. Oh, but you don't appear to be interested in warming my bed..." pretending to consider for a moment longer, Nightmare smirked, "You have five years. Condemn another to take Error's place, or see him back here. Understand?"_

"Oh, _Crossy,"_ at once, the Second's attention was snapped back to the present. To the threat- to his **boss** in front of him. "You seem to be relaxing on following my orders lately," Nightmare purred. "You failed to find a new toy for me to play with, so I brought Error home. I found myself **three** new toys where you couldn't find a single one. And yet... so subtly, you're disobeying me. You're messing with my things again. _Lusting_ after them, though your guard is even more impressive now." 

Cross took another step back. Futile, when Nightmare grabbed him with tendrils around his wrists and held him midair. Dropping the hangers, Nightmare dragged Cross closer, resting a clawed hand upon his unformed chest. "Such an impressive guard... I never _did_ try to break this little habit of yours." 

"I-it's to protect y-you-" 

"Protect _me?"_ Nightmare barked out a laugh. When he spoke again, it was with Error's voice, "Rookie, you shouldn't be feeling such sweet, _positive_ things. Not with me."

Cross stared at the king in dismay. "Nigh- _my king,"_ he hurried to correct. 

Nightmare didn't ignore the slip. "Failures, disobedience, secrets, and now the audacity to refer to your king by name without permission? You're so very brave, Crossy," Carelessly, the king dropped him. "I hate that. Bravery is for knights, not nightmares. Rather than taking chances with my commands, I expect you to submit to my control and follow them. I already allow you quite a bit of leeway when it comes to mistakes. _Don't_ make me regret that anymore than I already do. I don't tolerate errors, Cross," Nightmare smirked. "I fuck them."

"You... you-" 

Nightmare's grin widened, "I what, Cross? Do you think you're immune to becoming an error? Hehehehe... _Want to bet on that?"_

"N-no, no my king..." 

"Hmm... a waste then," Nightmare turned away. "Turns out, I don't need your opinion today. Run along, little Rookie. Go collect my toys to the throne room. Gather intel about the doll. I'll give more orders then. Dismissed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Something came to my attention earlier today and I wanted to address it here too. Please please _please_ do not make any suicide/death jokes, especially towards other people. We understand if it's regarding fictional characters (Nightmare, lol), but please just.... try to refrain from it. We never know what others are going through, and reading something meant to be a joke could accidentally send someone over the edge, or trigger a panic attack. 
> 
> This series got really heavy in the first book, and there are some other heavy bits for the second part, and I would much rather see our readers coming together than potentially getting triggered by each other. I'll be keeping a zero-tolerance policy regarding this, so please just be aware of it. Thank you! - TK


	7. Just Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the husbands ready for their meeting, Reaper prepares for his mission, and there's talk of tea parties. Y'know, just another day in the life of a nightmare!

It was a restless night, where at least one or two of them were awake to check on Geno. By the time their alarm was to go off, they had decided to officially do a rotation to check on their shortest husband. 

Geno still didn't wake.

Disheartened, the trio slid out of the over-sized hammock seconds before their alarm rang. 

In a foul mood, Error slammed his hand down on the damn thing. Hard, but not enough to risk breaking the machine that was tied so closely to their well-being.

“Anyone need to shower?” He asked, helping Reaper ease Geno down and accepting his brother’s weight. “We need to be quick, so do it now and do it fast.”

Reaper paused with a thoughtful expression. A shower did sound nice, but... cringing slightly, he shook his head. “I... can take one after my mission...” he murmured, unsettled by the delivery he was tasked with making with Horror. Especially with the wording form last night that wouldn’t leave his head...

Any_more_ dust...

Reaper shuddered. _I don’t like this._

Ink shook his head too, walking over to the closet to find their clothes. It had to be casual today, right? Or maybe business casual? Hell, did they even have anything more casual than pajamas? 

Error watched Ink for several moments before turning his attention to Reaper and Geno. "I'll go grab us something quick for breakfast. Cereal, I think. It... isn't too difficult to eat, right? So one of us can try feeding it to Geno before we leave. Unless that soup you have is still good?"

Reaper blinked before pulling over his inventory to check. Had the soup been made with even the slightest hint of magic it would have still been steaming, but...

He cringed at the film spread across the cold soup. A human-made brand then. Technically still good, but not all that pleasing to look at after a night spent somewhere other than a fridge. "We can try the cereal. If anything, he should be able to drink the milk to fill him up and we'll just try feeding him a little extra for dinner later on today instead."

Nodding, Error passed his brother back to Reaper once he was settled on the floor. More than happy to hold his first close, the god took a seat and spent the time it took Ink and Error to dress keeping Geno warm with an embrace and murmuring to him softly. When Error left to pour them their quick meals, he still kept up his whispering and only really shifted to allow Ink the closeness he also desired with their smallest, blank eyed husband.

"Hon, you should get dressed before you eat," Ink gently interrupted. "I... I know you want to keep talking to him, but while we can always put aside food for later if we run late, getting dressed is a whole other matter." Going hungry wouldn't get them punished. Failure to meet Nightmare's standards of dress? That would. 

Reaper frowned, shoulders sagging slightly. "Especially with my... _mission_ today..." 

"Especially..." Ink reached over, kissing Reaper on the cheek, before gently taking Geno into his own lap and holding him close. "We'll be right here, Reaps..." 

Nodding, the god rose and started putting on the more formal casual of the clothing options. He just... had a feeling that Nightmare would prefer him in something like this. _Tch_... "Inky, I don't feel very hungry." he admittedly, gaze lowered with the excuse of doing up the buttons of his shirt. 

"You should still try and eat, okay...?" Ink hesitantly smiled to him, "I'll try too."

Sealing up the rest of his black as a night shirt, Reaper rolled his shoulders to soothe out the remaining aches of his healed wounds and tried to grow accustomed once more to the discomfort of such tightly fitted clothing. "...Yeah, okay..." he sighed, stepping into the legs of his pants and pulling them up. 

Pausing, he adjusted the pants over shirt so that when he buttoned them shut, the shirt remained tucked in. For good measure, he pulled his slacks up just a little higher so that they sat at an unflattering height.

Upon seeing the new look, Ink snorted; a small amused smile on his face as he did so. "Why are you wearing your shirt like that? And stars, why are your pants so high, hon? You're not planning to wear a jacket, are you? Because even if you do, it's not going to change the fact that I can see your scandalous ankles."

_I just wanted to see you smile,_ Reaper thought, though he kept the words to himself. Out loud, he innocently asked, "What? Aren't high-waisted pants some sort of fad?" and smiled when Ink's next snort came with a small puff laughter.

"Oh, just fix your clothes, you dork."

Just as he went to untuck his shirt, Error walked in with four bowls of cereal balanced on a tray, took one look at him, and raised a brow. "...Nerd," Was all he said.

A light blush dusted his face. Ink he planned for seeing him like this. Error? Not so much. "Just for that, I'm tempted to leave everything like this." 

"You're just missing a pencil or a-" Ink gasped teasingly, "A pocket protector! For your pens!" 

"Tch, sounds like _you're_ the nerd, Inky." 

He shrugged, "It's a badge of honor, so thank you!" 

Error shook his head, smiling slightly, "Both of you are nerds." 

Ink turned to him, grinning wider. "Does that make you the theater geek? Or the jock?" 

The former destroyer choked. _....of the four of us, probably?_Then again, he knew how wild Ink's dramatics could get. Reaper's too, now that he thought about it.

Confused, Reaper mouthed 'pocket protector' to himself. What... what the hell was a pocket protector? _Why_ did a pocket need protecting?

_Mortals are weird,_ he decided, smoothing out his shirt once untucked and taking a seat at Ink's side. Accepting two bowls from Error, he carefully set one within reach at his side before taking the spoon offered to him and turning to Geno. Slowly, he scooped up a small amount of cereal and milk and brought it to Geno's empty smile in an attempt to feed him.

It... didn't seem to work.

"C'mon, honey..." He murmured worriedly, working around Ink's arms to press the smallest spoonful he could manage to Geno's teeth. As he tilted the spoon, the small puddle of milk steadily drained, but the cereal remained. "Geno..." Unintentionally, the name came out as a mournful croon.

Error watched with sad eyes mirrored by Ink's own sorrowful gaze. "...Looks like we're going to have to stick with easier meals..." he sighed, already compiling a list in his head based off of what he knew they had. "Things he won't have to chew will be best. We have a few packs of oatmeal?"

Reaper sighed and dug through Geno's cereal for more milk. "That can't be good for him though, right? Oatmeal isn't terrible, but what else is there? Broth and... and what? Yogurt? Pudding? Applesauce too, but... Gen is going to need more than that. Meats, fruits, vegetables... He needs nutrients, Ru." _Things to keep him healthy and... and to help the baby grow._

"...There's a blender..." Ink hesitantly informed the two. Grinding food into mush didn't sound delicious, but it would give Geno more options.

Error and Reaper exchanged glances. They... really didn't have any better plans. Not until Geno came back, at least... 

Decision made, Error nodded once in response to Ink's suggestion. "If we have the time, then we'll blend meals for Geno. If not, then we can resort to whatever is around that he'll be able to eat. Reaper's right though. He... t-they aren't going to get what they need from yogurt and pudding alone, so we need to make an effort to get him the nutrients he needs. J-just until he wakes up." 

_Until he wakes up, huh...?_ Gently, Ink pressed a kiss to Geno's skull before leaning his forehead against the glitch's. Softly, he murmured, "C'mon, hon... Come back to us soon, okay? ...Please?" 

After that, they finished up their meal with a heavy silence broken only by suggestions for meals they could plan. With the tense air hanging over their heads and the seriousness behind their topic of discussion, time seemed to creep by slowly. And yet, all three felt as if the familiar three knocks on their door came all too soon. Sharing a displeased look and a sigh, Ink and Reaper took up the task of cleaning and nudged Error towards the door.

Error twitched, but didn't argue and rose to greet Cross. He opened the door, muttering a cold, "Rookie," and nothing else.

Cross bowed his head slightly in greeting, "Error."

Glancing behind him, the destroyer made sure that his husbands had Geno settled in comfortably on the sofa before he bothered stepping outside. As soon as he did, they were in line behind him and the door was being shut to block out Cross' view of the living room behind them.

More specifically, of _Geno._

"Lead the way," Error demanded, voice quiet yet firm.

In it, there was no hint of the warmth that use to sneak it's way into Error's words whenever he would address Cross. Instead, there was only a hate so cold it burned.

It was a hatred that Cross was about to worsen very soon.

_"Go fetch Error and the other toys, Cross. Be sure to gather data as you do. I want to start off today's meeting with a report."_

_"Data...? My apologies, Nightmare, but could you explain?"_

_Nightmare smiled, amused. "I want to know how my- oh, I mean how **your** little glitch is settling in. We worked hard on his special little room, after all, and it would very much be a shame for it to go unappreciated. At the very least, I want to ensure that they've found it. Maybe even get some opinions on what else it may need? Less lights, maybe?" he mused._

Closing his eyes, Cross allowed himself a single steadying breath before he addressed the three trailing behind him. "...Have you three gotten Geno settled into his room yet? I... I set it up with him in mind..."

Immediately, Ink hissed, "I thought you said **Nightmare** set it up personally?" 

_If only he didn't need to ask more questions. Data gathering?_ It was reminiscent of when Cross ordered Endure to gather intel about everyone at one of the celebrations so the Papyrus could make his own connections and opinions... and yet, while similar, it was not the _same_ by any means.

This was different. So, so different. 

"....We worked on it together," Cross supplied. It wasn't exactly a lie, either. 

"Fascinating," Error spoke dryly. "So, are you two _close?"_

Cross allowed himself a glance back towards Error. With a hint of dread, he shrugged. _We're not close. Not as close as he forced you to be with him, at least._ Eyes forward once more, he murmured, "I'm his second. If he wills it, then we're a team." _You're still not answering the question, idiot..._ but what good would answering really do? Nothing he said was meant to be the truth.

And Nightmare knew the information the unwilling nightmares had. Like Ink said, it was previously stated that Nightmare set the room up. There was no way the king forgot what game pieces he allowed his other players. So why mess up?

Why put Cross through all this bullshit if he knew the contradicting information just gave the second more hoops to jump through?

_What are you doing, Nightmare?_ It was a question he found himself thinking more and more. Since the very first day the husbands arrived to save Geno, in fact. 

As time went on, Cross found himself increasingly farther from the answers he sought.

"Well?" Error hissed.

Cross didn't turn to look at him again. "What do you want me to say? You wouldn't like the answers I have to give, Error, so why don't you just drop it?"

Unwillingly, a flare of protectiveness surged in Error's SOUL. Cross betrayal hurt. More than that, it pissed him off because... because Cross was **his** rookie, damnit. His friend. And Nightmare probably hurt him, didn't he? _Shit, but how? Did he-_ he shut the thought down. Whatever history they had didn't matter. Cross hurt **Geno** and that shit wasn't forgivable. 

A tiny, traitorous voice in Error's head whispered, _**Nightmare** said he hurt Geno..._Forcefully, he pushed it away.

"Tch, I'm a stubborn asshole, Rookie. Don't you remember that? So answer the fucking question. Unless... Oh, does he give you a little fucking _script_ for when these scenarios crop up in your interactions with us? Do you get a list of pretty fucking bullshit to tell us?" 

Cross let his silence answer that.

Error laughed, the disbelief in the sound born not from the answer but the fact that he was actually surprised by it. _Of course Nightmare does. Why wouldn't he?_

If there was one thing Nightmare loved than the torment he caused others, it was control.

"Figures," he sneered, sockets narrowed as he attempted to burn a hole in the back of Cross' skull with the heat of his glare alone. "What, you don't have the balls to speak for yourself? Can't think up your own words when you're given a question you don't have a scripted response to?" Snarling, he sped up so that he was just on Cross' heels. "Did you follow his fucking script to a T when you put your filthy fucking hands on my brother? Like a good, loyal second, _did you follow orders and rape him, you fucker?!"_

_"...Wonder what you'll do when he orders you to, next time. When he wants to watch someone have fun with the poor, helpless glitch." Geno whispered._

Error slammed into Cross when the other second stopped in his tracks without warning. Expression unseen, Cross coldly growled, "You still have one other weapon that you hate, Error, though not as much as knives. Maybe I should request to train you on the usage of them?" 

Reaper and Ink bristled. _That was a fucking threat!_

"You wouldn't-" 

When Cross glanced over his shoulder, ice shone in his lights. "According to you, I absolutely would." 

_"Geno isn't here. **I am-"**_

"Ass..." 

Cross slashed his gaze to the artist. "Don't you mean _soulless?_ Because I recall you labeling me as such." His gaze the flickered to Reaper. "And what about you? Do you have a little nickname for me? Perhaps, mutt? Mongrel? Slave? _Whore?"_ Error flinched at the last one. And when none of them said anything else, Cross turned back around, "Let's go." 

Ink glanced down at the pain in his hands, realizing that Cross had clenched is fists so tight, he drew blood. _Why....?_

The rest of their walk was made in silence. Stiff, awkward, tense. 

Cold.

When they reached the throne room, the mild conversation going on between the three willing nightmares was such a stark contrast to their own heavy silence that it was almost jarring. In a way, the sound of voices was comforting.

Until Killer ruined it, as always. 

"Where's your boyfriend, Crossy?" he asked with a grin. "Too sore to walk this morning after you tucked him into bed?" 

The last few words of the question were spoken with air quotes, Killer's tone of voice and teasing grin making it very clear he assumed the absence Cross took during last night's dancing to return Geno to the husbands' quarters had been abused for carnal needs.

The purple pain flared slightly more in Ink's- **Cross'** palms. "Are you trying to live vicariously through me? Is Horror not enough for you?" 

Endure choked on air as Horror sputtered and scowled darkly at the second. To which Cross ignored. 

Ink tried to keep his expression neutral, but stars, why did he have to do that so close to him...? Why is he hurting himself right now...?!

Killer's sockets grew a little wide. Honestly, he expected a bit of teasing back. Maybe some flustering on Cross' part. Being snapped back at though...?

Slowly, his grin shifted into a smirk. "You totally didn't get any, did you? The fucking glitch didn't put out!"

"He has a name," Cross snarled, voice melding with Reaper's as the god spat out the same words. When Reaper looked at him in surprise; however, he ignored it. Again. "Nightmare will be here soon. Shut up, straighten up, and behave until he arrives."

"Yup, definitely didn't put out. You'd be in a much mood if he did."

Staring Killer in the eyes, Cross snapped his fingers. A fire burst to life in front of him, and above it- 

Killer shrieked, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BABIES?!" 

"Did you know it takes _quite a bit_ of heat to melt down knives?" Cross' glare sharpened. "I wonder how long it would take to-" 

"OKAY!! FINE YOU FUCK-LESS PRICK!" when the box dropped lower, Killer cried out, "CROSS! CROSS OKAY, I'LL STOP!!" 

"..." 

"Alright Cross," Nightmare purred. "Give Killer his toys back." 

"...pff." The fire vanished, and the air that swept in felt nearly icicle to the touch. Another snap of Cross' fingers, and the box of knives was gone. "Night." 

The husbands barely refrained from sharing a look. _What the fuck was that...?!_

"Nice to see you all being so lively in the morning. Well," Nightmare glanced at the unwilling husbands, "most of you, I should say. But enough for now. Line up, nightmares. We have quite a bit to go over. Cross, did you get that data for today's little morning report?"

"..." For a moment, it seemed as if Cross wouldn't respond. 

Slouched, he stood with his hands in his pockets, blank eyes seemly on the floor but focus on Nightmare as he watched him from the corner of his eye. And yet, his usual instant obedience was lacking that morning.

Nightmare's eye narrowed, "Cross." 

"..." Sighing audibly, the most trusted second straightened and turned to face the king. "Geno hasn't yet been shown to the room we set up for him, boss."

"...I see." Slowly, the suspicion in the king's eye lessened, though it never died out completely. "Well then, I originally had no work planned for you and the artist, Error, but it seems as if I've found a small task for you two to accomplish on your free day. Explore your new quarters to the fullest. You'll find that Cross," he glanced at the second, _"and_ I worked quite hard on that room for dear Genocide."

_It's a fucked up version of a nursery, isn't it?_ Error guessed with a scowl.

"Now then, let's move on to your mission for today, my little bird."

Horror grinned widely and winked at Reaper, but the god stayed focused on the threat- _their boss_ before him. 

"As I've mentioned before, you will be delivering a package to a specific person. Any who come across you shall not live to tell the story, but leave the message receiver alive. Horror will be trailing you to make sure you do exactly that." 

Glare sharp yet empty, Reaper rumbled, "Where will I be going?"

To drag out the silence following Reaper's question, Nightmare slowly stretched out before lounging on his throne in an artful, lazy manner. One leg on the floor and the other kicked out over the arm of the throne, he leaned back against the other and supported his head with his own tendrils. Once comfortable, he tossed a look Reaper's way.

"Sorry, could you repeat the question?"

Twin spots of irritation began to itch on Reaper's back. Had his wings been unfurled, they would have given away his irritation through rapid, uncontrollable movement. "Where will I be going?" he bit out.

"Tone, little bird. I'm sure you can manage something much lovelier than that irritation I hear."

"...Where will I be going, boss?"

Smiling, Nightmare nodded, approving of mention of his leadership. "You're going to visit my _dear_ brother's little, perky apprentice. Oh wait, not _just_ my brother's," he grinned at Ink, "that little start is _yours_ too, isn't he?"

Ink kept his mouth shut. A panic grew within him. One that he snuffed out immediately with pride. "Yeah, boss..." Maybe just a hint of attitude was felt with that last word, but otherwise, Ink kept to himself. Reaper's destination though... 

_Underswap..._

Stars, Ink hoped Reaper wouldn't come across Stretch... 

Nightmare's smirk grew. 

Killer grumbled. "And what about End and I? You expecting us to stand around? Look pretty? You probably expect _Cross_ to do that." 

Cross stared down at Killer, though didn't make a move yet.

Nightmare slid his gaze to Killer, his brow raised. “Strange, I could have sworn that these meetings ended with my dismissal. No, wait. They _do._ Which is why I’m a little confused about your whining, Killer. Did I say we were done?”

A hint of color touched Killer’s cheeks. Embarrassment.

Ink was honestly surprised the dripping eyed skeleton felt much of anything aside from his usual corrupted hues of yellow.

“Sorry, boss,” Killer muttered, cowed after being made the fool. “...but you are giving us something to do, right? Something out of the castle?”

_He’s going to throw a fit when he’s told he’s meant to stay her-_

“I am,” Nightmare reassured.

Purple stained the insides of Cross’ pockets as his fingers dug a little too deep into the cuts already formed from his earlier anger. _Killer and Endure are supposed to be on cleaning duty today._

_What was Nightmare fucking doing **now?**_

"You're to pick up some more supplies," Motioning for Killer to step forward, Nightmare handed him a paper slip. "One of our new nightmares is getting a little... wider. Pick up some new clothes for him, and find me some of these specific fabrics." 

Killer approached, perplexed, but he took the slip of paper from Nightmare's hand and nodded, nearly bolting out of there right away. 

Turning his attention to Cross, the king murmured, "You're to accompany Ink and Error back to their home." 

_To their home. That doesn't mean inside._

"Make sure they're keeping it clean," Nightmare smiled. "I wouldn't want our hard work to go to waste." 

Error scowled, “What, you gonna ask us to host a fucking tea party next?"

Nightmare chuckled, "Well, if you're offering, why not? I'm sure Cross would enjoy it. I gave you _such_ a lovely kitchen. Not just that, but a dining room, too. Have fun, you three. Enjoy yourselves until dear Reapsy returns."

"...Am I to assume that means I'll be leaving for my mission now?" Reaper questioned dully.

After a glance over, Nightmare shook his head. "No. For now, return to your home. Cross, instead of returning to their quarters with our dear friends here, follow me to my special little closet for them. Horror, you're to join us. You'll be taking the god a change of clothes. A...uniform, of sorts." Pleased with this new order of plans, Nightmare smiled. "Cross, you can stay for tea after the god is dressed and on his way with Horror. Dismissed." 

Eagerly, Killer grabbed Endure's hand and vanished through a portal. Horror and Cross stayed with Nightmare, and the unwilling nightmares made their way back down the hall to their home, with Error leading the way. 

Once inside, Error had to restrain from clawing at his own face with frustration. Ink reached for him, but ultimately decided to grab for Reaper's hand instead. The god's shoulders slumped as he rest his forehead on Ink's shoulder and sighed. "I don't know what to do..." 

"We don't really have a choice do we...?"

No, they didn't. Not with Nightmare dangling the well being of their husband over all of their heads. Only, that wasn't all there was to it, was there? Not anymore, at least.

They had Geno's unborn child to worry over too. 

_Stars, does... d-does he even know that he's...?_ Reaper shuddered, the small noise he muffled against Ink's shirt not the sound of a songbird, but a distressed, broken-hearted man. "Take care of Gen while I'm gone, okay? Ru too."

"I don't need babysitting, fucker," Error growled, the anger in his voice not meant for Reaper. With two harsh kicks, his shoes went flying into the wall just beside the door. No markings were left behind as evidence of the impact, but the small acts of violence seemed to make him somewhat happier. "...Be safe though, Reaps. If Horror tries anything against you-"

Pressing closer to leech Ink's warmth, Reaper cut in with a soft sigh breathed against the artist's neck that had Ink shuddering pleasantly, though this wasn't the time for _that_. "It's not me I'm worried about. It’s...if he purposely causes a commotion...."

"...You'll have to kill whoever comes to check things out," Ink whispered.

Reaper nodded, gripping Ink to him all the tighter. "I can try to keep us cloaked, but..." he sighed. "Yeah..." _Gods, Ink **knows** the people of Underswap...! I'd.... I'd have to-_

"Reaps..." Ink cupped his cheek to look at him. "Reaper, this is to protect Geno... At least, to try and protect him as much as we can now...." 

Error glanced away from them, murmuring, "I'm going to check on Gen real quick."

Sparing Error a brief nod of acknowledgment, Reaper looked to Ink with a weak attempt at a smile while the destroyer made his way to the glitch in question. "I know, Inky..." 

Reaper... he was _Death_. Although the title was shared with Respite, Reaper was the _first_ god of their kind; the _first_ Death in more than just name. Everything unfortunate enough to exist after his creation fell by his hands and it had been that way for **years** now. He was no stranger to his terrible duties. 

And while he didn't partake in it himself, he was no stranger to _murder_ either. He witnessed the first and many, many more since. Most likely, there were still more awaiting him in the future to view. His work wasn't kind, after all.

_Reaper_ wasn't kind. Not like Respite was.

If it came down to it, he _would_ murder to ensure the safety of his smallest husband. That's what it would be, too: Murder. Blackmail didn't change the ugly name of the deed. 

Killing to keep Geno and the child safe didn't mean he wasn't still _killing_. But he would do it anyways. Not gladly, but not entirely unhappy either. It would be a job. Not his usual, but a job all the same. 

_You miss it. The monotonicity of your work. So many overdue clocks tick in your head and you're **desperate** to silence at least a few...whether it's their time or not,_ a nasty little voice whispered in Reaper's head.

He ignored it.

"I know," he murmured again, nuzzling closer into Ink. "I'll do whatever I can to keep him safe, Inky. You and Error too. I just..." _You're afraid of how much you **want** conflict. An **excuse.**_ "...I don't want to hurt you, hon. If... if I run into someone you know..."

Ink tried for a smile. "...They'll come back, hon. Eventually." But that didn't mean he wouldn't be hurt. It didn't mean he wouldn't cry, or mourn.

_That didn't mean you wouldn't feel their deaths..._ Reaper grit his teeth. _But would he...? People die all the time and he doesn't seem too affected by it right now..._

Dammit, his head hurt so much from this. If he hurt anybody, wouldn't it literally hurt Ink? Or would it just be the knowledge of- 

Ink pulled him close and kissed him softly. "Reaps, please calm down... Please honey..." He tried for a smile. "D-Dream can help Blue...." _reset Underswap...._ He closed his eyes, trying to keep his emotions in a turmoil as he thought of something. Something... **dangerous.**

"...Reaper...?" he began hesitantly, voice as quiet of a whisper as he could manage. With his growing nerves, even his soft whispered seemed like his loudest scream. Heart racing, he tugged Reaper closer and lowered his head as if kissing the god. _Are there cameras in here?_ He didn't know, so he kept the act up.

In actuality, his mouth was hair's breadth away from Reaper's grin. 

"I-Ink-"

"Shhh," he interrupted, sure that Reaper saw him as a madman at the moment but too hyperfocused to soothe any concerns he may have. Making sure their intimate position looked natural, he slid an arm low around Reaper's lumbar. "If you speak, whisper. For now, I need you to listen. I... I think I have a plan. A stupidly dangerous plan that could-"

"Get Geno hurt?" Reaper hissed, teeth brushing Ink's as he stressed the words. 

"Yes," There was no reason to deny it. "I... it's a risk, Reaper. One I'm not happy about taking, but... hon, this is our chance to get help. Reapsy, this could be our only chance. It puts Geno in danger, but only because trying something like this leaves us open to being _caught._ So..." he smiled shakily. "...please don't get caught?"

"I didn't agree to anything. I don't even know what this plan _is,_ Ink."

"Please... Reaps please...!" 

And how could Reaper say no to that desperation in Ink's whisper...? 

Error came down the stairs minutes later, shoulders hunched slightly. "He's still not awake..." 

Ink looked over to him. "I wouldn't expect it to be so quick, but we can still try-" 

"We won't be able to when _Cross_ comes over for..." Error's fists clenched tighter, "For _tea."_

_You're the one who suggested it,_ no one said.

Error heard the words in their silence. "It was _sarcasm,_ damnit!" he defended himself, arms crossed and head turned away to hide his bright, angry flush. _I should have known better though. Fuck, I **do** know better._ Knowing Nightmare and his dramatics, they probably had a tea set somewhere in the kitchen, too.

If they didn't, Cross would undoubtedly show with one in hand. _That fucking lapdog..._

Glancing at the clock pinned to the living room wall, Ink frowned. How much time...? "I'll be back." he promised, kissing Reaper and pausing by Error to do the same before practically bolting upstairs. I should at least be able to make up something small. Straight to the point too, I think.

_I used to be that lapdog..._ Error frowned, watching Ink go up the stairs. _Stars dammit..._ He looked to Reaper. "Are you okay, Reaps...?" 

_I will be-_ "You sure you want to ask me that....?"

Error glanced away. "I don't know what else to ask, Reaps... I don't know what else to do." 

Hesitantly, Reaper approached him. It was hard to tell if the re-established destroyer was okay with touch or not, but he stopped just far enough away to allow the other to make the choice for himself. The god opened his arms, and the destroyer clung to him.

"Just... just get through today, hon," Reaper murmured, teeth pressed to the top of Error's skull. Savoring the feel of the other in his arms, he held him just a bit tighter and lightly swayed side to side. Not to dance, but simply to keep the stress of inactivity off his shoulders. "Get through today, then tomorrow... and every other day after that."

Always the pessimist, Error snorted. "Yeah, because it'll be that easy."

"It won't," Thinking otherwise wasn't just foolish. It was fatal. "But all we can really do is tackle things one day at a time." _For who knows how long..._

Error gripped the taller skeleton's robes tighter. "H-how... how can you... stay strong like this...?" 

"Because I need to..." _I don't know what else to do..._ "Because you all need me to." 

Error took a shaky breath in. _Is... is it so simple to think that way...? To just... stop planning for the future?_ "I... I'm not sure if I can-" 

"You **need** to," Reaper murmured. "Please, gods, you need to, Ru."

It wasn't that easy. Not for Error. He- fuck, it was hard not to plan. To _fear_ all that the future could possibly hold. This castle... 

Error lost _everything_ in this hellhole. He was trying to stop the same from happening to his family. After already failing his brother, it felt like he had to try harder. If Nightmare was months ahead of them, then he had to be _light years_ ahead if he wanted to have the slightest chance of beating the asshole at whatever long lasting game they were trapped in.

But... stars, it was so exhausting. Worry, fear... they were constant. Most of the time, nausea accompanied them just because he felt everything so strongly. Every memory that haunted him amplified his dread and he- it was draining him. He was exhausted.

Error never handled weariness well. 

_Slowly, he reached out and took the outstretched hand._

_A white, lying smile stretched wide. "Welcome to the nightmares, Error."_

He didn't want to lead himself to another terrible decision simply because he took on too much to handle. Still, wanting to ease up his worry wouldn't make his concern for his family vanish. Nothing would. 

But maybe that was okay. He could still worry, he just had to... go with it. Prepare for the events they faced daily instead of trying to plan for the uncertain future. That was... it... "Okay." 

It seemed doable. Hard, but not… impossible…


	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which actions speak louder than words... something that Ink and Reaper prove in their own special ways!

When Ink came back down, his palms were wrapped with gauze and sloppily tied. 

And his lights were **red.**

"One of the rooms is dark. It's... it's pitch black, painted as such, and there's a single light in the middle of it." 

That nausea Error felt bubbled up. _The save screen... he- he made it into a room...?!_

Reaper's high, echoing noise of agony informed the destroyer that he was not alone in realizing what the room was styled to be. "T-they..?" His eyes met Error's, well aware that, for all Ink's anger, he didn't quite realize the extend of just what kind of torture that would be for Geno.

Ink had never seen Geno in that hellhole. Not the haunting glitch Error first came across, or the one with the fear hidden in his smile that Reaper encountered years ago. Between their individual first encounters Geno _had_ improved, but... 

Geno spent **years** in the darkness of the save screen with a single measly beam of light to protect him from a seemly infinite void of dark shadow. No company, no comfort... just the darkness that seemed so menacing when alone and the flim-like nightmare of endless genocides to break it up. With all that he lived through, the glitch carried more scars than the ones carved into his bones. 

Fluctuating nyctophobia was one such scar. Company when in darkness helped like a balm to soothe the aches of an old wound, but it didn't steal away Geno's fear.

A fear that Nightmare was playing with like it was a fucking toy.

Distress swiftly turned to anger. With twin snarls, Error and Reaper stormed passed Ink, headed for the stairs with anger in their eyes.

Ink swiftly grabbed their sleeves- 

_Knock knock knock_

The three froze, glancing to the front door. Harshly, Ink whispered, "We're not allowed to destroy any of the rooms...!" 

Error snarled, "As if I give a shit...?!" Despite his words, he didn't fight off Ink's hold to continue up the stairs. 

Reaper's glare darkened as he gazed upon the door. "A day at a time," he murmured, the words a reminder for them all. 

Waiting until the other two calmed down slightly more, Ink walked over to the door and opened it for Cross and Horror.

Unfortunately, neither were empty handed. 

Held with a light grasp by one of Cross' hands was hanger in which Reaper's outfit for the morning hung from. With the god's mission in mind, it was fair to assume to that the clothing involved some form of a pant and top combo, but the protective bag around the outfit concealed just what was in store for the dark eyed skeleton. A small, hopeful voice in Reaper's head prayed for something casual. Something easy to move in.

Knowing Nightmare, it was likely he'd be overdressed in a restrictive three piece suit just to drive Reaper insane. Cross wasn't holding a shoe box, but that meant nothing when Reaper still had the pairs from the previous formal clothing he wore after Nightmare's commands.

Still... _Please, please just be sweatpants._ Even if they were in Nightmare's colors.

While most of Reaper's focus was on Cross' burden, Error's eyes were on Horror's. Standing between the door and his husbands, a crimson-eyed Ink also focused on the package all while blocking the willing nightmares' entrance into their living space with his body.

A box.

That's all it looked to be. Wrapped in glimmering black wrapping paper and adorn with a curly, bouncy bow made from green ribbon, it was about the size of a child's lunch box. Maybe even smaller, actually. 

Ink... 

Ink had no idea what was-

"Gonna let us inside?" Horror asked, grinning.

Clenching his jaw, Ink stepped aside slightly, watching Horror closely. 

The larger skeleton walked in after Cross, murmuring to Ink, "You look at me any longer like ya wanna eat me, and I might just let you," with a foul smirk on his face. 

Disgusted, Ink slammed the door shut and stormed towards his husbands. That overlarge eye light dropped down to Ink's wrapped hands, then to Cross', and he could barely contain his intrigue. 

Cross ignored him in favor of approaching Reaper. "This'll be your outfit for the outing. Error may have to help you put it on-" 

_"Upstairs,"_ Error ordered. "Ink, watch them." 

The guard met Error's hateful gaze with his own icy indifference. "If you must." He glanced to Ink. "Mind getting some snacks for our tea ready in the meantime?" 

Though it was phrased like a question, Ink knew better. "Sure thing," he spoke too lightly. His lights were still red.

_He found the room, didn't he?_ Although the artist had plenty of reasons to direct his hate at Cross, it usually wasn't done through constant red eyes. They certainly made an appearance time to time, but he couldn't recall the color lingering this long in any of the hateful glares sent his way. "Horror, give the package to the artist. He can find a spot for it until the god returns."

Eyelight drawn in once more by those bloody bandages on Ink's hands, Horror smirked. "Sure that's a good idea, Cross? Wouldn't want him getting blood on the package. That's why _you're_ not holding this, remember?" 

"Better a little bloody than crinkled."

"I can be gentle."

"Which is why Killer is so often found limping like he broke a leg? If that's your gentle, then I'd hate to see your version of rough."

Smirk growing wider, Horror slid his eye from Ink's hands up to meet his eyes. Staring deep into the crimson targets, he said to Cross, slow and clear, "Just because I _can_ be soft doesn't mean _Kills_ wants me to be. Heh, I woulda thought you of all people would know that. You oughta know what masochist is, Crossy." His gaze never left Ink's. "I mean, considering who _you're_ fucking and all. Dug up some _interesting_ information when looking into that boyfriend of yours and," he whistled, impressed, "kind of freak, isn't he?"

"No freakier than that gloryhole in your head," Ink snatched the package from Horror and set it on the counter. "Though, I guess you _would_ like the few brain cells you have left to be fucked out." Ink stared at Horror again. 

And smiled. 

"Oh, maybe you wanted _Kills_ and I to have another round?" he purred. "Maybe you **like** watching that shit?" His voice dropped, "Do you want to see if he likes the way I wield his knives on him?" 

A flash of fury heated Horror's magic, and Cross threw an arm in front of him, snapping at the both of them, "Enough." He frowned at Ink, once again thankful for the shield to hide his sudden fear of the artist. Logically, the guard knew he meant to torture Killer in front of Horror, but... 

It was clear the castle's chef wasn't necessarily on that same page.

Targets and a singular eye light continued to clash despite Cross' intervention. Working around the guard, Horror and Ink maintained eye contact with hate burning within their gazes, the intensity of the emotion growing with every passing second. Along with it, the tension within the room skyrocketed, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

In place of the blade, a single echoing screech shattered the tension.

_Reaper!_

Horror's hateful expression twisted. Although the spiteful ire remained, corrupted joy and a sick sort of pleasure bled into the look on his face, pulling his snarl into a smile that looked more like a sneer. "Seems like the god found his present," he chuckled, his laughter full of spiteful glee. 

_Present...?_ Ink ignored the arm that came up to push him back. Had Cross deserved it, he would have admired the second's determination to keep this confrontation from happening. "What you laughing about?" 

Instead of answering straight away, Horror continued with his laughter. The raspy quality of his voice grated on Ink's ears, but the disgusting tones of his amusement were worse to witness. "You know..." The second standing between them growled a warning. It went ignored as Horror stepped closer. "If Cross' little fuck buddy is a freak, then that god of yours? He's a fucking _animal."_

_Fear._

_Panic._

_Shame._

At first, Ink found himself confused. He was angry. He _knew_ he was. But where was the rage? Why... why was he painted in the wrong colors? The confusion persisted just long enough for Cross to push him back.

And then Reaper stumbled the stairs, outlined in every hue Ink was mistaking as his own. When he looked up, Ink lost the words he had on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't even remember what they were.

A muzzle.

Reaper was wearing a _muzzle._

Made of what looked like leather, the muzzle covered Reaper’s face from the ridge of his nasal bone down to his chin where it fit against his mandible snugly, pulled tight by the thick straps that anchored it to his head and neck tightly. _Too tightly_, thought Ink, noting the way the bone visible around the edges of the muzzle was flushed blue—a sign of irritation from the no doubt too constricting material. There, marrow starting to seep into the leather too, and yet... Looking closer, Ink saw that it was on the _loosest_ notch possible. 

For just a moment, Ink blinked and saw deep blue running from Reaper's eyes. _Tears._

When he blinked again, they were gone, but a dusting of color around his sockets told Ink they had been real. The matching hue of sorrow within Reaper whispered that he was holding them back now to keep from crying in front of Horror and Cross.

But _fuck._ He didn't look it, but Reaper felt so _scared._ The muzzle... he didn't just hate it. No, Reaper was afraid of it; _ashamed_ of it for the way it reduced him down to less than what he was: A god. A _person._

Ashamed of how it marked him as an _animal_, just like Horror mocked.

Because what made the mix of colors and the already terrible muzzle so much worse was the fact that the leather forming it wasn’t flat, or fit to mold to intricate curves of a skeleton’s face. Instead, the black material expanded outwards quite a few inches in a curve ending with a point. A beak.

The muzzle was shaped to look like a fucking beak.

Uncontrollably, Ink's very vision went **red**. The next thing he was aware of was Error and Cross pulling him back with Horror wheezing and gasping, coughing up his own blood. 

And laughing. 

"Guess he ain't the only animal out of you fuckers," Horror grinned widely, letting his blood trickle from his mouth. "What, is the little puppy upset? Are you wanting Nightmare to claim you too?" 

"That's **enough**, Horror!" Cross snarled. 

"Let go let go let go," Ink chanted under his breath, struggling against Error and Cross. His wild red eyes were still trained on Horror, though the injuries he inflicted on the bigger skeleton were already starting to reflect on his own body and face. 

Error snapped, "Ink, **drop it**. He's not worth it." 

"Yeah, boy, _drop it_. Drop it like a good little doggie does. Go _heel_ by your master-" 

CRACK! 

A stunned silence fell over the room with Horror holding his jaw in place and staring up at Cross with wide sockets. 

"What part of ‘enough’ did you not understand?" the second hissed lowly. "You have a job given to you by Nightmare to observe the god on his mission. Nothing less. _Nothing more._ If I've learned that you didn't follow my orders, I'll make sure you don't get healing cream for your jaw. Understand?" 

Still shocked, Horror nodded mutely.

Cross turned on Error and Ink. "Pull out the supplies for our _tea party_ later," he ordered. Looking up at Reaper, Cross continued, "Remember to not kill the person you're giving the gift to, but anyone else that sees you is to die by your hands, or by your blade. Now grab the package and go." 

Horror struggled to his feet as Reaper shakily walked down the rest of the stairs and took the package. Ink opened his mouth to call to the god. To reassure him, to say advice, to whisper, "I love you", _something_, but Reaper wasn't even looking to them. He stared down at his bare feet, wearing a pair of snug black pants, a black long-sleeve shirt, all mostly covered by a long green robe, with Nightmare's insignia embroidered on the back of it. He held the package in one arm to flip the hood of the robe over his head, sending his entire face into shadow, except for the beak that peeked out. 

Together, one limping and the other levitating slightly, the skeletons left for their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little game: Which author came up with the idea of muzzling Reaper?


	9. Breathless/A Single Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Golden forgets this isn't 'Tragedy' and TK saves the day. Barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flipping perspectives!

Once he couldn't feel either of them, Error let his first go. 

Cross was right there, grabbing Ink’s shirt tightly. "The fuck are you trying to do?!" he hissed lowly. 

Rage re-ignited in his sockets as Ink shoved Cross away. He spat inky blood on the floor and snarled through the pain, "What's it to you, _second?"_

Error stepped between them, growling to Ink, "Shut up, idiot." He glared at Cross. "What, are you going to punish Ink, too? Because Horror was running his mouth **again**? Or do you need to pull out your scrip-" 

"Error," Cross spoke his name as if it were a command by itself. "I thought I told you two to start making tea." He glanced at Ink, "And don't forget to clean up your mess. It's rude to have blood staining the floor when you have guests over." With that, he turned and made himself comfortable on the couch, waiting. 

"What, not going to demand Geno's presence, too?" Error muttered. 

Cross stayed silent.

———

Mercifully, Reaper thought, Horror was quiet. The sound of that crack, and the way he held his jaw made Reaper think Cross had dislocated it, or at least cracked it painfully. He allowed himself a brief moment to worry about Ink before he regained focus on his task, and the package he was to deliver.

Unsurprisingly, Horror had them starting from perhaps the _furthest_ possible place from where Blue was most likely at. _Maybe he'll come to me instead...? He's got how many eyes on this world?_

As if it would be that easy.

Glancing around, Reaper took note of the aged doorway behind him. _Sealed shut, no possible means of entering unless opened from the other side._ So... the very end of the ruins, which meant... 

Shit, the _end_ of the ruins.

_I know Swap is different, but..._ This was where Geno mentioned always first seeing the human. They'd come through the doors and carry on with their genoci- fuck. If Geno would have been able to spot the human when they stood where **he** did...

"Y'gonna start or what?" Horror grumbled.

...that meant his husband's equivalent in this world may be able to see **Reaper** now. _Fuck, who is it...? It's Swap so... the Papyrus of this world?_ Reaper couldn't remember his name. Something other than 'Ink's friend's brother,' he was sure.

But that didn't matter, did it? Names were meaningless if the one you called out to was dead. If the brother saw him, then he-

_tick... tock... tick... _

Would end up **d e a d.**

Unseen beneath the shadow of his hood, a cyan-encased pupil sparked to life in Reaper's socket. At his side, his fingers twitched before curling around air. It would be so easy to summon his infamous scythe... it would be oh so easy to linger where they stood... to wait until he was seen... _Death awaits for all, in the end._ This time, it would just be... literal. Purposeful.

It would be **m u r d e r.**

...But would that be so ba-

"Y'know, for someone who seemed so against this shit, you sure are takin' your sweet ass time, birdie." Every word was joined by a crackling pop from Horror's jaw as he spoke. Wincing, the willing nightmare scowled and took a hold of his own jaw. With a sharp movement and a growled out curse, he shifted it every so slightly. When he spoke again, the popping was gone. "Lookin' forward to a little murder there, Tweety?

_Yes._ "No," Reaper murmured. _What are you doing, idiot? Fucking up here means that **innocent** people will die._ He didn't discriminate between kind and cruel people, but Reaper didn't do early reapings. Souls were off limits until they were actively calling to him and, as far as he could tell, there were no such souls here now. _Come on, move. If you're seen by that brother, then-_

_**If** he sees me. He..._

_Tick... tock... tick..._

Well, Reaper could work with an if.

———

Childishly, Error flipped Cross the bird before spinning on his heel and urging Ink into the kitchen. At first, Ink didn't budge, but a sharp look and whispered hiss of his name had him following the destroyer into the other room.

No door to offer them privacy beyond what the walls could offer, Error kept his voice as a whisper even as he snarled, "What the fuck was that?!"

"You _really_ expect me to stand by while they insult my husbands?!" Ink hissed back. 

"I expect you to _keep your damn temper on a leash!_ For **Geno's** sake, dammit!" 

Frustrated tears burned in the corners of Ink's sockets. "Err-" 

"I'm not _done,"_ Error snapped, gently taking his face to inspect the damage. Upon seeing Ink wince, the destroyer's angry scowl softened into a worried frown. Carefully, he applied pressure until there was an audible click of bone shifting back into place. "You fucking idiot... Don't you remember that you get hurt when others are-?" 

Ink jerked his face away, staring spitefully at the counter, though Error watched those shoulders slump with defeat. "I didn't mean to make you worry, Ru..." he turned back towards his husband and hugged him tighter, just barely exhaling, "But now they won't suspect anything."

———

Behind him, he sensed the one SOUL in this world that he wouldn't mind reaping. Horror's. _Maybe someday..._ For now, he made sure to silently cloak the other nightmare, before sticking to the shadows and making their way to Blue's house.

Feet already off the ground, he easily bypassed the branch attempting to cause trouble. Without looking, he caught it in as thin a layer of magic that he could manage and subtly pulled it out of Horror's path when the wounded skeleton went to stomp it in half.

He couldn't disguise the other's footprints or even the marrow dripping behind them in snow. At the very least; however, he could do this best to stop the other from purposely causing them trouble.

Hopefully, whoever was watching out for new arrivals wouldn't catch everything else. 

Surprisingly, luck seemed on his side. As the bridge they walked across bled into the snowy forest floor, no encounters were made. No monsters were even seen. _Luck, or something else...?_ Reaper didn't know, but he hoped whatever it was lasted... And that Horror would keep his hopefully still aching mouth shut.

_Tick... tock... tick..._

Deep down, a small part of him hoped for a different outcome to all this.

———

Error's eyes snapped up meet his gaze. Were any other person would have exclaimed something in confusion, he kept quiet. _What are you...?_

Subtly, Ink shook his head. It was barely twitch, yet the intent behind the motion was clear to his first. _Not now._ Crimson was slow to fade, but when it did, it left the symbols flashing through Ink's eyes pink. A soft, gentle hue instead of the almost toxic pink his paint could cause. A blink, and the shapes in his eyes briefly settled on a plus sign and a misshapen circle. 

Error's scowled and looked away, but his arms slid around Ink's waist. A plus in place of the letter 't' and a wonky circle in place of a splotch of ink. It was an old signal.

He still remembered the meaning. 

_'Trust me.'_

"Don't do it again," Error grumbled, nuzzling into his neck and sighing. When he pulled away, he muttered, "Go clean yourself and the blood up please... I'll make the damn tea and snacks. We don't need _boss_ yellin' at us about the mess." 

Ink nodded. "Yeah, you're right..." he squeezed Error's hands briefly and left the kitchen. 

Cross hadn't moved from the couch, though his face was buried in his hands, and the palms seemed to be bleeding slightly again. 

_What's wrong?_ Ink almost asked. Instead, he ignored the other and went into the supply closet, pulling out the bleach and bucket.

———

Honestly... it was kinda creepy. Nobody? Really, _nobody?_ Not even an accidental encounter?

Reaper had a bad feeling. 

A bad feeling that got worse as they neared the town and heard a celebration going on. 

_...No. Nope, I'm not going straight through._ Reaper retreated slightly, taking a turn into the still-silent forests and making his way around the north. He kept the celebration in view, but made sure to stick to the shadows. 

Queen Toriel's birthday, huh? And she was supposed to swing down to Snowdin soon? 

_Gotta finish this delivery boy mission fast..._

_Tch... or carrier pigeon mission...._

Think... If such an important celebration was going on, then the possibility of Blue attending was a very real obstacle to consider. He would _have_ to go in town and there would be no avoiding senseless murder. _Do I risk teleporting straight to his home...?_ But Reaper didn't know where the house was located. 

When it came to genocides, no deaths ever occurred within the house. At least, not enough for him to be confident enough to try a jump straight there. 

Sighing, he considered his options. 

_Swap...Swap... I want to stay out of Hotland. And..._ Well, everywhere preferably. 

_This was pointless._ He was... fuck, he was going to have to take a risk. 

Coming to a stop before a subtle gleam cleverly hidden in a tree, Reaper prayed the well-hidden camera was Blue's and dropped just his invisibility alone. 

Then, like an idiot, he waved at the screen rapidly. 

__

———

A rag moving against the floor, the clinking and clanking of dishes... and nothing else. Beyond those quiet sounds, nothing filled the near-silence of the house as Error and Ink worked on their assigned tasks. Even with no work of his own to complete, Cross offered no conversation. Just more silence.

Despite this, no one really heard it at first. There was little noise to disguise it, but the faint sound went unnoticed with everyone too focused on ignoring one another to realize there was something amiss. 

_...Creak... creak... creak..._

Error cursed, the sound sudden but dying off faster than it sounded. Nursing a small cut on his thumb with his mouth, he glared at the apple he was in the middle of slicing. _I should have just pulled out the canned shit._Fresh fruit was better, but who cared about serving the good shit when a bastard was the company they were hosting for?

_...Creak, creak...creak..._

Picking up the noise but dismissing it, he pushed the bloodstained apple to the side and grabbed what he had prepared. Tea and a plate of fruit. Did it go together? In all honesty, he didn't know but hoped that it didn't. Let Cross suffer.

_...Creak, creak...creak...creak, creak, creak..._

Absentmindedly, he twitched; annoyed. "Ink, what the fuck are you doing upstairs?"

"Hm?" Ink murmured, concentration breaking and symbols flickering to representing his confusion. "Ru, I'm not-"

_...Creakcreakcreakcreakcreakcreak..._

"...U...u-up..." Ink choked, suddenly unable to finish as his throat _burned_ with violet. _W-wha-_

Porcelain was set down hard on the counter before Error ran upstairs, screaming his brother's name.

Cross was near instantly behind him. _There shouldn't be anyone else here but us...!_

Ink tried to follow, but found himself collapsing to his hands and knees, trying to unclog his throat. Although there was a part of him that understood it wasn't his pain, it was hard to force himself to breathe when his body and mind were fully convinced that his throat was obstructed. _Gen... Geno...!_ He tried to say the name, but all he managed was a choke that melded into a fit of dry heaving.

At Ink's fall, Error faltered, but continued on his way when the empath weakly motioned for him to go. Throwing open the door to the bedroom, he ran to his struggling brother's side and quickly realized the problem. Carefully, he helped roll his blank eyed brother onto his side. At once, the new position made way for the vomit choking Geno to finally made its escape. 

Once the smell hit, Cross thought that he might just be sick as well.

———

On the other side of the camera, Blue sat in his room, watching the celebration morosely. His friend had been taken a month ago, and it didn't feel right that everyone was celebrating... Logically, it wasn't Ink's capture they were celebrating, and Blue **knew** that...

But it still felt like it.

_And Muffet is still missing too..._

Something waving in one of the cameras caught his attention, and he peered closer at it. Blinked once. Twice. Wait.... _isn't that... Reaper...?_ Blue… vaguely remembered Ink mentioning something about his godly husband, but he wasn’t sure. _Did… did he dress up for the celebration...?_

Painfully hopeful, albeit confused, Blue triggered the trap door there. 

The ground beneath Reaper's and Horror's feet collapsed, and they found themselves yelping, tumbling dangerously close to each other until they both crashed into a slightly warmer, dirt floor. Horror recovered first, snarling and shoving the too close god away for him, thankful the god was almost entirely covered in cloth, "What do you think you're doin'?!" 

"As if we can't get away quickly," Reaper scowled back, annoyed at how muffled his words were. 

A different door opened, and Blue walked down the stairs cautiously. Once his gaze latched onto Horror, he froze there.

The willing nightmare met his gaze, foul mood adding a sharpness to his stare that had Blue stepping back in unease. At the sight of his clear fear, the wounded skeleton grinned; blood still in his teeth. "Hey there, little berry," he greeted. Anger left to fester made his words cold.

Reaper stepped in front of him. The movement was meant to keep Blue protected from Horror's stare, but... 

_Tick... tock... tick.... Tick... tock... tick..._

Short as he was, Blue was able to gaze up beneath the hood that Reaper's wore. At the sight of voids alight with brightly burning magic, he stumbled back further; afraid. "W-what... what are you doing here? S-state your business! N-now!"

Reaper's own words probably didn't help Blue's fear. "Delivery," he murmured, voice severely muffled, but still understandable. "From... from Lord Nightmare."

———

Disgust sent Error's own stomach rolling uncomfortably, but he pushed through it, angling Geno to free his airway and rubbing his brother's back to comfort him through the process. "Just... just let it out..." he encouraged, gagging slightly at the next round of the slick, foul scented substance.

Shuddering, Cross turned and left the room. When he returned, he looked a little green, but wasn't empty handed. Instead, he carried a warm towel and a glass of water, both of which he passed to Error once the bouts of sickness finally seemed to fade. Error didn't offer any thanks for the supplies, but Cross didn't expect any.

But they were glad when it stopped.

———

"N-Night...mare...? R-Reaper, right? Wait! W-wait what do you-?"

Reaper interrupted by taking a few steps forward, unintentionally towering over the much smaller Sans. _Please... please don't ask me anything else...!_ He offered the package, careful to hold it in a way that Blue could take it without touching him. Blue flinched at the closeness, but gingerly took the package. The moment the weight was off his hands, Reaper stepped back and muttered to Horror, "Let's go." 

"What, and miss the _fun?_ Or were you hoping to slaughter everyone on your way out, _Death?"_ Horror sneered. 

_Tick... tock... tick.... Tick... tock... tick... Tick... tock... tick..._

Blue tightened his grip on the package and stared up at the two skeletons, shaking slightly. _A mistake... he made a mistake coming down here alone...!_ He was tempted to call for his brother, but that would only succeed in dragging Papyrus into this danger.

Reaper's head tilted. After a long moment of silence, he murmured, "The mission was to deliver the package with specific orders that I wasn't to be seen." That wasn't exactly true, but he didn't want to cause anymore distress than he already was. "I completed my mission, so _let's go."_

"And if I say no? If _I_ decide I wanna stay and watch him open the-"

Cyan flaring even brighter in Reaper's eyes, magic encased Horror's SOUL; bright, blue, and _frigid_ as the cool hue of the god's magic sank deep into Horror's SOUL, chilling him as only Death could, "I don't care what you want. We have orders, we completed them, **and now we're leaving**, so either direct us back or I'll find a way to do so. We have a report to give."

———

Left in the hall, Ink inhaled sharply and began to gasp and pant as he greedily sucked in all the air his mind was convinced he lacked. In the back of his throat, the lingering traces of acid still burned, but the pain was soothed by the rush of something cool. _Water_, he guessed, recalling Cross stepping around him minutes ago in a rush to grab a glass.

"...Ink?" Heh, speak of the devil.

Breathing finally under control, he lifted his head and gazed up at the unreadable eyes of... of what? Geno's second abuser? Their enemy? The more Cross showed his infuriating face, the less certain Ink was about his labels for the willing Nightmare.

And yet, confusion or not, his anger never seemed to fade whenever he saw that cold, concealed gazed. "...What?" he murmured.

Cross knelt just across from him, watching his expression closely. "...Are you okay...?" 

_…Why the fuck is his voice so soft…?!_

"What, now you're worried about someone other than yourself? Are you planning on changing it if I say I'm fine?" 

Impatience flashed briefly across his face, "Are you trying to get a reaction from me, Ink?" 

"Don't..." he hissed. "Don't say my name. Y-you don't-" 

"Deserve to say it?" Cross sighed. "You don't know anything, Ink..." He rose to his feet. “At least, you don’t know _enough.”_

"...The fuck is that supposed to mean...?"

———

Horror sneered at him. "Gonna tell boss on me? Trying to become his favorite, are you?"

Reaper glared down at him. _Oh... I see... you're making a scene **here** on purpose._ "Let's go." 

Horror peered around the god to grin at Blue and wave his fingers, "Another day, perhaps, little blueberry~." 

With a flash of magic, the two were teleported just outside the town. Reaper summoned his scythe, ready to open a portal back to Nightmare's castle.

"Mommy, look!"

_Tick... tock... tick.... Tick... tock... tick.... Tick... tock... tick..._

Reaper froze, hands trembling around the staff of his scythe. _No._

_Tick... tock... tick. Tick... tock... tick. Tick... tock... tick..._

"Mommy? Mommy, c'mon! Lookie!"

_Tick, tock, tick. Tick, tock, tick. Tick, tock, tick._

_Oh gods, no._

_Ticktocktickticktocktickticktocktick._

"A magic man, mommy! Two of them! They... they just appeared outta nowhere like... like _whoosh!_ Look, look! Before they go away!"

_Ticktocktickticktocktickticktocktickticktocktickticktocktick._

Slowly, mechanically, Reaper turned his head. 

_ **t i c k** _

The wide, frightened eyes of a monster met his shadowed gaze. Clinging to her leg and tugging at her shirt to get her attention, a child no older than five stood. 

_ **t o c k** _

Horror began to laugh. Low, it began as a chuckle that transitioned into a loud, rasping cackle. "Well lookie there, _Death._ Two perfect opportunities to become the favorite."

_ **t i c k** _

———

Cross shook his head and turned away. "You should get up now. Error needs help cleaning and I have a feeling neither one of you want my help." Dully, he added, "Especially since Geno needs a bath."

Ink was on his feet in a instant, red returning to his gaze as he stepped forward and snarled, "Don't you dare-"

"Touch him?" Cross guessed. Pocketing his hands, he calmly began making his way down the hall to return back to the living room. "Wasn't planning to _artist_ but, hey, look. You're on your feet."

Ink snarled at his back. "What are you even gaining from this?! Staying here, hurting Geno, seconding everyone around?" 

Cross paused and sighed. "Just following a script." 

"You should make your own fucking script." 

"...You're right," Cross glanced back at Ink. "I think I'll tell Nightmare you three need better training, and I'd **love** to teach it to you." 

There wasn't anything malicious in the way the words were said, nor the mostly relaxed, albeit bored posture the guard was keeping. But the words pissed Ink off more. And when Cross raised a brow, Ink saw it as a challenge. _Are you going to fight me or are you going to clean up your damned mess?_

Ink turned on his heel and helped Error.

———

_"...I don't want to hurt you, hon. If... if I run into someone you know..."_

_Ink tried for a smile. "...They'll come back, hon. Eventually."_

This... this child... they could easily be in the same class as Paperjam and Goth. And yet...

No.

This- no...! _Gods, n-no...!_

Trembling, Reaper watched the terrified mother and her oblivious child with wide, magic filled sockets. Subconsciously, he tightened his hold on his scythe; blind to the magic creeping across the blade and sharpening it to a wicked point. One slash... Yes, with just a single arch, he could get them both, though it would have to be diagonal on a downwards angle to account for the difference in height between the two. Still... it would be easy.

Slowly, Reaper abandoned Horror and his annoying cackling in favor of drifting closer to the unfortunate monsters. Expression blank behind his muzzle, Reaper raised his scythe-

"Mama, look! He's got a shiny weapon like Alphys! That's so cool! ...M-Mama...? Mama, what's wrong? Why are you crying?!

_"Mommy...?" Goth called out._

_Startled, Geno jerked away from where his face was hidden in Reaper's chest. Realizing his mistake, he quickly rubbed at his watery socket so that the little skeleton wouldn't see his tears. Unfortunately, he was too late and Goth gasped, quickly running into the room._

_"Mommy!" Goth cried. With a struggle, he climbed onto his parent's bed and crawled onto Geno's lap. "Is mommy okay? Did... did you get a bad dream? I can help!" Determined, the little skeleton threw his arms around his mother. Smiling, Reaper did the same to the glitch. "I'm giving you my bestest hugs, so dun cry, okay mommy?"_

-and then his scythe went swinging down.

Eyes cold, Reaper twisted and slashed open a portal. "We're going. Now." 

Horror paused by the entrance, glancing back. "...Where's the dust?" 

"They don't always dust when I kill them," Reaper murmured, annoyed. "What, do you actually care or are you stalling? 'Cause I thought you'd be _itching_ to go see your partner by now? Oh... or is there trouble in paradise? What a shame." 

The injured skeleton stood there, staring curiously at where the child and the mother were. At Reaper's words, however, he whirled around with a snarl. "The fuck are you-"

Reaper didn't wait for him to finish. Instead, he turned back around and stepped through the portal. Eventually, Horror followed after him with angry stomps.

After a moment, the portal shut...

...And the magic hiding away the duo faded. Alone in the forest, the mother broke down in tears, hugging her child tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... if there's any fans of 'Of Tragedy and Death' here, then you should know just what TK saved you from having to read. - Gold 
> 
> Heh, we'll see if it's even a mercy~!- TK


	10. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which blue is both the color of sadness and the name of a character

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flipping perspectives!
> 
> **Some warnings to consider:** Flashback of non-consensual choking during intercourse that takes one of the participants out of it. Also, there's mention of vomit, for those uncomfortable with that.

When Ink entered the bedroom, he was greeted not by his husband, but with a sharp, sour scent that rushed him the moment he stepped into the room. Instinctively, he jerked backwards and retreated out into the hall as his eyes watered and his expressed scrunched. _Stars, that's... unpleasant,_he thought, though unbearable might have been the better word.

Due to his... quirk, Ink wasn't exactly a stranger to vomit, but there was an undeniable difference between the mess that awaited him inside the bedroom and the ones he himself created. When Ink threw up it was, well, _ink._ It was just as messy, but a lot less unpleasant... and stinky. How in the hell was Error-

"Unless you're still dying in the fucking hall, get in here and help." After a pause, Error called out in worry. "You... you're not still dying, are you? Ink? ...Ink!"

_Concern slowly giving way to fear._ "I'm okay, Ru," Ink reassured. This time, he was better prepared for the sour air when he entered. It wasn't any less foul, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. "I just... wasn't ready to deal with this, I guess." Colored symbols looked over Geno with no small amount of concern. Thankfully, Error didn't comment on the hateful red of his gaze. If anything, he probably expected it if Ink's encounter with Cross was heard. "And... I- _we_ weren't dying, Error. Just..."

"Choking." Although his tone was angry, Error's hands were nothing but gentle as he worked Geno out of his soiled clothing. By the looks of it, nothing the empty eyed glitch wore would be salvaged. "You were choking because _Geno_ was choking. And you know what that leads to? Death. A slow, fucked up kind of death that neither of you should have been put in risk of."

"Error...?" _White..._ The destroyer's fear was stronger, but not alone. Mingled within the blank, icy color were wisps of color that were far prettier than Ink thought was fair for such downtrodden colors to be. _Anger, self-hatred, regret... Oh Error..._ "We're fine, Ru," Ink promised.

Even with a better understanding of emotion, Ink found that he couldn't quite decipher the expression Error tossed his way. "He was choking on his own fucking vomit, Ink. Geno may be okay _now_ and all, but that's not okay, damnit. Choking isn't- it's..."

_At first, it's easily overlooked. Overwhelmed as he is by teeth and tongue and roaming tendrils in place of hands, Error is far too busy losing himself to the sensations of carnal pleasure to realize that with every thrust into his pliant sex, air comes with just a little less ease. Every moan he makes gradually weakens and every pant between devouring kisses becomes a struggle. It's only really when he's on the edge that Error finally realizes that it's because he can't breathe. Not well, anyways. And yet, he trips into orgasm too quickly to voice his plight to Nightmare._

_Admittedly, it's a good one, but the pleasure is soiled by panic. He can't breathe. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, **he can't breathe...!**_

_"N... N-nigh...t..." he chokes, clawing at the possessive tendril around his neck. "Ni... n-nigh...t...!" His voice, already weak from pleasured noises, is little more than a hoarse whisper. Had the room been silent, Error would have been heard, but the slick sounds of their coupling drown him out alongside Nightmare's own breathy moans and forceful grunts. "N...ght..."_

_The closer Nightmare gets to orgasm, the more the tendril stealing his breath tightens around him. Error tries for a scream, but it turns out to be a mistake when all the attempt serves to do is release what little air he has left within him. Terrified, Error tried digging his phalanges into the slick appendage, but he felt... tired. Weak. And so, so scared. It's enough to twist the once enjoyable weight of a body pressed over his own into pins and needles set aflame. He stops struggling, but his eyes flash with crowded text and crimson._

_ By the time Nightmare reaches his end and removes the tendril, Error is locked into one of the harshest crashes he's had in months._

"...It's really fucking scary, Ink," Error whispered, "and we left Geno up here to suffer alone."

_What's going on in that head of yours, Fringe...? _

_"Geno," Error could easily handle the smaller skeleton if he had to, but he wasn't sure Geno would prefer his brother's aid in cleaning himself had the glitch been able to make the decision. "I cleaned what I could with a towel before taking him out of his clothes, but he's going to need a bath. You should brush his teeth too, though you'll-"_

__

__

Ink smiled slightly at the worry in Error's colors. "Have to be careful. I know, hon." Rummaging through the closet, he dug out two of his own button up shirts and a pair of Error's shorts. For now, he draped one of the shirts over Geno to hide his naked form before carefully lifting him into his arms. "...If we want to keep an eye on him, then we're going to have to take him with us back downstairs."

Error looked away, busying himself with pulling the bedding off of the bed. Thankfully, nothing seeped through. "I know." Even if they propped him up, leaving Geno alone when another nausea spell could overcome him wasn't ideal. He had an idea on how to position Geno to keep his airway clear, but... Stars, what if they did it wrong? What if he started choking again and they weren't here, or simply ended up lounging in his own sick because they were unaware he threw up again? "Just... go bathe him. If I'm not done when you are, wait for me before going downstairs with him, okay?"

———

Upon entering the throne room, the willing nightmare and god were met with the sight of Nightmare lounging on his throne, expression amused as he finished up a conversation with Killer. Judging by Endure's presence at his side and the multitude of bags they both held, their return hadn't been made long ago. _How much of what he purchased is actually wearable...?_ Even with Endure's presence during the trip, Reaper didn't have high hopes for the clothing Geno would be stuck with.

Worrying over the bags would have to wait though. "...My king," Reaper greeted, drawing Nightmare's attention away from the other two nightmares and instead to Reaper's hunched form and Horror's wide, excited grin. "...The package's delivered, boss..." the god murmured. 

Mercifully, the king jumped straight into things. "Any witnesses besides the receiver?" 

"None that survived." 

Nightmare's bored gaze slid to Horror. Still grinning, he confirmed, "A poor mother and her brat were lucky enough to stumble into our path right before we left. Didn't recognize them, so my guess is that they were a buncha nobodies." Horror snickered, "Definitely a pair of *no-bodies* now. Ain't nothing left of them, boss. Honesty, it was kinda ruthless." He didn't seem disturbed by that. 

"Impressive..." The king murmured, green gaze brightening as he peered at Reaper.

———

Admittedly a little pleased to be free of the smell, Ink nodded went through the hall and into the bathroom with his precious burden held in his grasp. Carefully, he readjusted Geno to one arm to turn the tub on and test the temperature of the water. It would have been easier to set him down, but the tub didn't take all that long to fill and Ink was more than happy to keep his husband close in the meantime.

"Let me just..." Once the tub was full, he tested the water once again to make sure no drastic changes took place. It was a little on the hot side, but no where near as what was considered dangerous for a skeleton. "Okay, we're good to go." With little effort, he placed the empty eyed glitch in the tub... and then proceeded to stare. It wasn't perverse by any means, just... sad. "I'm... sorry about this in advance, Ge. I... I don't think you'd mind or anything, but if you do... I'm really, really sorry."

As was quickly becoming the norm, there was no answer.

Sighing, Ink reached for a soft washcloth and some soap and quickly got to work. As he did so, he talked to the glitch currently under his care, explaining every new action he took and both warning Geno of and apologizing for cleaning near intimate areas. For most of the process, he was okay. His voice wavered and his eyes stung, but Ink was doing just fine... And then his emotions got the better of him, bubbling out of his sockets as silent tears that dripped into the tub.

"I'm sorry, Ge..." he choked, deep blue droplets hitting the water with small splashes. With every drop of color, the sad blue hue danced out in beautiful wisps of smoke-like azure before melding into the water. The more Ink cried however, the less the color dispersed; the bath soon losing it's colorless transparency and instead gaining a faint blue tint. "I'm so, so sorry..."

Hands gentle even as they shook, Ink ran the soft washcloth he held over Geno's stomach. It was still too early to show the famed roundness of pregnancy, but... 

Knowing what to look for, Ink found the small speck happily housed within it's mother's womb. 

His tears fell faster, racing to catch up with the rushed apologies that fell from his mouth. _I'm sorry I didn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorr-_

Partially submerged in what was now a pool of Ink's deep blue sorrow, Geno began to cry.

———

Reaper shuddered, the reaction to the praise subtle but still seen. "...Happy to please..." he murmured, head bowed to keep his face shadowed.

Nightmare raised a brow. "Come closer, little bird. I'm afraid you're a bit difficult to hear with the... _mask_ you're sporting."

He dispersed his scythe and walked across the floor. _Don't raise your weapon against him. Don't try to levitate above him._

Reaper had no idea if Nightmare even cared about details like that... but he got quite a bit right with the mirrored house. It was likely he was remembering all of this. 

He stopped in front of the king, face still shadowed.

———

_Would Geno even want it...?_

_Would he be unable to... t-to get rid of it...?_

_Would Nightmare try to take it...?_

Ink buried his face in his hands, trying hard to keep his sobs down. _It's Geno's decision... Geno's body... but... b-but if Geno keeps it.... and it's Nightmare's or Cross'...?_

His cries shuddered to a stop. _No... no...! If... if we get out. If Geno keeps them. I f i t i s N i g h t m a r e ' s . . . ?_ Ink scrubbed his sockets. _I'm not letting him have **Geno's** baby..._

As it stood right now, Ink could barely sense the souling's magic, and it was way too soon to feel any emotions from it. A waiting game, huh...? 

He looked back to Geno, double-taking with surprise at seeing tears dripping down his husband’s face. "Gen...?" He reached over and gently swiped at one of the tears with a thumb. "Geno...?"

An instinctual blink, but no response or recognition in his void socket. _He... he's still lost somewhere in his head..._ but why was he crying? 

Even with the murkiness of his emotions, Ink was well aware that, where ever he was inside his head, Geno was still afraid. Afraid and sad, but too far gone to express it. And yet, here he was crying. What changed?

Catching a few more tears with his thumb, Ink went to swipe them away just as he did with the rest only to freeze, just now noticing the color of Geno's bath water...

...and the matching hint of blue in Geno's _tears._

———

"Kneel."

Obediently, Reaper lowered himself to a knee. In this position, Nightmare lorded over him with the advantage in height despite being seated in his throne; something he drew attention to by tipping Reaper's head back with a tendril so that his hood slid off and their gazes met, Reaper's forced to raise in order to meet Nightmare's eye.

"..." He said nothing, unsure of if anything was expected of him.

"What's the matter, songbird?" Nightmare questioned, stroking where leather cut into bone with the tendril angling Reaper's head. "Too shy to perform for your master? None of that now, okay? Repeat what it was you said that I couldn't hear."

_Songbird...?_ At the thought of music, the ticking ever present in his ears grew louder; deeper, like the pounding of drums... or a heart racing in fear due to an ever nearing death. "...Happy to please..." Reaper said, voice muffled and strained, yet clear enough to understand.

Nightmare teasingly stroked the curve of the muzzle, as if praising him for the obedience. "Anything of interest to report?" Slowly, his touch slid down from the muzzle to Reaper's neck. Toying with the collar of his clothing, he worked around fabric to curl his hand around the back of the god's neck where he lightly massaged his nape. "Any other _action_, my pet?"

A screech was stuck in Reaper's throat. He begged it to remain there. "No."

"No what?"

"Bos-"

"No."

Reaper frowned, the expression hidden. "...My kin-"

Smirking, Nightmare shook his head. "Don't be such a bird brain, pet. Come now, _think."_

"...Master...?"

The hand around the back of his neck tightened. Not enough to hurt, but just firm enough to make Nightmare's silent message clear. _You're mine._ "There we go."

_I'm not! I'm **not**, dammit...!_ But Reaper stayed silent. Waiting. 

His smirk widened. "Impressive little birdie.... I'm sure you'd like to return to your nest, is that right?" 

"...Yes... m-master..." 

"Very good." But he didn't let the god up yet. Instead, he tilted his head this way and that, eye focused on the leather of the mask. "I'm impressed... it looks like you didn't try to pry it off, either." 

"...It's... a little too tight...." 

"Seems like it fits fine to me. If anything, we could probably go tighter. Don't want it falling off, do we?" At his spike in distress, the king chuckled and carried on to other business. "Once you've made it back to your room, tell Cross to come and see me." He grinned. "I'd like to know how Genocide is doing. Oh, that reminds me..." he motioned to the now forgotten bags Killer and Endure left behind. "Take the darling these, would you? He's sure to need them within time." 

Reaper dropped his gaze, lest the magic threatened to light up. "Understood... m-master..." 

Nightmare let him go, watching him walk away. He called out, "And work on not hesitating when you say my name, Reapsy. You'll hurt my feelings."

———

_O-oh g-gods, I-_ Ink reached out and drained the tub, turning the shower on to a warm spray once the tainted water was gone. _H-how did...?_ He washed out the tub, then washed off the soaps and tainted water on Geno. Meanwhile, he touched his own cheeks, where a trail of blue still resided. He pulled his fingers away and examined-

_Noticing how similar to his paints it was...._

He clenched his jaw. _Dangerous... this... th-this is dangerous....!_ Once Geno was clean, he shut the water off and draped his shortest husband with the biggest towel they had. As with before, he murmured to Geno what he was doing, apologizing for going near intimate areas, before he swaddled Geno in the towel. 

_He.... he was affected by my tears…_

Ink lifted Geno into his arms, suddenly feeling a pain cutting through his face. _Reaps... Reaper's hom- Reaper is **back**..._

A brief exchanged of words too quiet for Ink to really understand made it's way to his non-existent ears. Had the door been open, Ink might have been able to make out what Cross was saying, but Reaper's side of the conversation would have still been impossible to hear. _He's still wearing the muzzle...?_

Double-checking that his precious burden was secure in his arms, Ink crept to the bathroom door and slowly turned the handle to lessen any noise he might have made as he pulled it open. Pointless, it seemed, because once he had the door open and could hear the conversation, Ink realized that what he caught was the end of a goodbye from Cross.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs once he was gone.

Error was right behind Reaper. "Reaps, hon, let me take that thing off first...!" 

Reaper's eyes had already caught onto Geno. Dropping the multitude of backs he held, he moved faster to get to the tallest and shortest skeletons of their little group. Once they were together, Ink gently set Geno in his arms, whispering, "He... had an accident. M-morning sickness!" Ink quickly added at Reaper's panicked expression. "He's fine, honey. W-we just had to clean him up a bit..." He reached up to the leather on the god's face and gently followed it around until he found the latch. Ink cringed with Reaper as he had to tighten it slightly before the buckle could come loose, and the mask fell into Ink's hands. 

_Burn it._

Ink shut his sockets, barely restraining himself from doing just that.

———

_He was scared... he was so scared... what was Reaper doing...?! A-and... and with that symbol on the back of his robes...?_ He trembled as he speed-dialed the first person he knew who could help.

"Blue? Did you find him...?!" 

"D-Dream..." Blue choked on a sob. "Dream p-please..." he stared at the package that he'd left on his blueprint table. He hadn't had the, he cringed, _guts_ to open the damned thing without some sort of moral support, and if it was from _Nightmare_.... "Please come to my house Dream.... I... I really need your help..."

"...Give me ten minutes, Blue. At least."

Blue's breath quickened, "D-Dream please, I...I-"

"Blue," Although his voice was regretful, Dream's conviction on the time he needed was clear. He wasn't going to change his response. "Call your brother down, okay? I shouldn't take more than half an hour, but-"

_"D-dunkle...?"_ Blue faintly heard. _"I... c-can you read me a story? O-one of Mama's?"_

Dream's voice grew distant and quiet. A little muffled, too. Most likely, he had his cell phone pulled away and covered with a hand, though his words were easy to make out with enough focus.

Blue's focus was shit at the moment. _T-that... that's a little kid... Was it Ink's son, or...or... ...Reaper's child...?_

"-ah, I'll be right there, Gothy," Dream’s voice became clearer as he focused back on the conversation with Blue. He murmured wearily, "I have responsibilities here. I'll try to get one of the children's uncles to return home soon, but I promised them a break today and I can't leave them without protection."

Blue hesitated. This... this was important. This being both the box he couldn't look at without trembling and the task Dream had. Papy was just upstairs... but... Blue would feel safer with both his brother _and_ Dream. Maybe it wasn't appropriate with the business they had to discuss, but... well...

"C-can you bring them with? The children, I mean?" _Please, please don't make me wait. I'm scared, Dream._

———

With the leather pulled free from his bone, cyan began to sluggishly drip down Reaper's face. He ignored it, sinking down to sit in the middle of the hall with the bundled up glitch on his lap. _I... I just need a moment..._ For extra warmth, Reaper drew the excess material of the robe he wore around Geno, clinging as tight as he dared as he clenched his eyes shut hard against his tears.

Ink kissed his forehead lightly and looked up to Error. "Are... do you need help...? F-finishing anything?" 

"No... it's all cleaned up, except for the kitchen. Reaps," Error called to his god. "I'm... I'm going to help Ink make something for us. What would you like?" 

"..." Hiding his face, Reaper closed his eyes and tried to drown out the noise in his head. Almost too quietly to hear, he choked out a whispered, "Maybe a sandwich...?" Before curling over Geno as much as he could, desperate for the comfort his first always brought to him whenever the glitch was in his arms.

———

"...Blue, what happened?"

"I..." he whimpered. "I'm s-sorry Dream... I j-just..." _I don't know what to do...? I don't- p-please...!_

He tried his best to be gentle, "Blue, if you're scared about something, and you're asking me to bring the children, it's making me think that you're under duress. That it's a trap to capture them." 

He... stars, Blue hadn't thought of that. "I'm not I- D-Dream, I saw _Reaper_... H-he gave me a package, s-said it's from Nightmare. I... I'm sc-scared to-" 

"Okay hang on," A little quieter, Dream said, "Gothy go ahead and pick out the story with PJ, and give me just another minute, okay..?" Returning to the phone, Dream murmured, "Blue? Is... is **he** still there?" 

_Reaper_... Dream didn't want to excite the kids... "N-no..." 

"Leave the package wherever it is-" 

"It's in m-my house..." 

"...okay, just... just don't touch it. Go to where Stretch is and wait with him until I get there, okay? Distract yourself until I get there. Have a drink or make some food or something. J-just... we don't know what he's planning, so wait for me to get there before we open it okay?" 

"Y-yeah..." Blue sniffed, trying to steel himself. "Yeah."

———

Two grins pressed kisses to Reaper's skull before heading downstairs to prepare the requested meal. Listening to his husbands' retreat, the god mentally counted the number of steps he knew it would take to make it down the stairs of their real home before lifting his head.

Tears ran down his face, undoubtedly felt by Ink from downstairs but at least not seen. Reaper loved the artist, but he needed privacy at the moment, even if it was just an illusion. 

Quietly to keep from being heard, he pulled back the slightest bit to look to Geno and whispered, "H-hey, honey," with a pitiful expression. No answer of course, but just having Geno there helped. "I...I missed you while I was out..." Quieter, he admitted, "I miss you right now, too. I know you're right here, b-but... I just miss your voice, honey. And your pretty eye light too..."

More silence. Silence from Geno, silence in the hall... silence everywhere but within his pounding head... 

Hugging Geno tighter, he closed his eyes and soaked up what comfort he could from his first, waiting out the tears that fell from his eyes. By the time they stopped, Geno was starting to shiver in his arms. _Clothes... He needs clothes..._

———

When the tired-eyed golden guardian appeared in the middle of their living room, Stretch nearly lunged at him. Nearly.

Blue's tight hold on his arm kept him still. "Guardian," he greeted coolly, smile tense. "Bit rude to make my bro wait an hour, don't you think?"

Dream didn't even spare him a glance. Any other day, he'd ease in around Stretch's frigid overprotectiveness. Not today. Not now, after having to ensure two sobbing children he wouldn't be gone for good so he could check out a package from his _brother_ left in his apprentice's _home._ "Blue, where is it?" He'd apologize for any rudeness once he could muster up the care.

"D-downstairs...!" 

Dream was there nearly before hearing Blue finish. He hovered hands over the package, but couldn't sense any magical traps laid by his brother or anyone else. Gently, he lifted it up, inspecting it for- oh...? He pulled a small folded piece of paper tucked between the ribbon and the wrapping paper. He tucked it into his robes, more focused on the box. 

He formed a protective bubble around the box and his hand. In his other hand, he reached into the bubble with an arrow and shredded the paper. 

_If it explodes, my hand can regenerate..._

It was a cardboard box. Slicing through the tape, Dream was frustrated to find another box, though this one was much more elaborate with swirling, tendril-like designs. Black on green. "Tch... going overboard for a prank again, aren't you-" he froze. 

Inside the box was a grey sand and several dead spiders. 

Sand...? 

_"That's part of the reason for Papy's poor greeting today. The person who's missing is... it's Muffet, Dream."_

Gently, Dream shut the box. _For better or worse, Muffet was found..._ He looked down at the paper, unfolding it to find- 

_Ink's handwriting...?_

It was a lot messier than the artist usually preferred to write, but the message was clear: _<strike>"game</strike> trap"_

_They.... stars, they were trapped there...?!_

"What is it, guardian?" Stretch called impatiently from the top of the stairs. 

At the footsteps, Dream murmured, "I'm not sure if this is something you're going to want to learn, Stretch."

———

"I'll get you warmed up hon... I... stars, I should've done that first, huh...?" He glanced to the stairs. _How long does it take to make a sandwich...? Or is Ink trying to make sure I had this time for myself until I'm ready...?_

The second option, no doubt. 

Wiping the lingering traces of tears from his face, Reaper stood with Geno in his arms and made his way to the bedroom they all shared. While passing doors, he wondered... _Which one of these is **that** room?_

Geno shuddered, chilled by his lacking wardrobe. Urged on by his husband's needs, Reaper pushed his angering thoughts away and entered the room, careful as he set Geno down on what looked to be fresh sheets before rifling through the closet for something warm. "Let's get you dressed, honey..." Then, they would head down for food.

Hopefully, Ink and Error would still be willing to offer the comfort Reaper was now ready to accept.

———

A tall, thin shadow appeared over Dream and the wall before him. "Let me see," Stretch demanded.

Dream placed a hand over the box's lid, protective of the contents inside. "I'll only say this once, Stretch, so listen close: Think really hard on just how much you want in on this conversation."

"My broth-"

"Is an adult. _Is a Star_. Blue," he called to the figure still on the stairs, "you have the right to decide not to look but, as a Star, you need to know the contents. You, Stretch, aren't part of this, even if your relation to Blue makes you think you are. Put your protectiveness aside and think about how involved with _our_ problems you want to be. _Really think_, and know that if you reacted rashly, I _will_ put you down. Forcefully, if I must."

Dream didn't know if their relationship went beyond friends, but he knew that Stretch was fond of Muffet. He helped dragged him home from her establishment enough times to know their friendship was strong. If he saw the dust, there was a chance he would react poorly and try something stupid.

Bloodlust, the desire for revenge... They would only draw his brother's attention. Dream couldn't allow that.

Stretch stared down at Dream. _"Your_ problems are involving _my_ world and _my brother_ again." 

"And you're too easily angered," magic burned under Dream's sockets, though he still stood firmly between Stretch and the box. "It'd be too easy to twist you against the brother you love so much, so decide. Will you stay or will you make your way upstairs and focus on protecting the rest of Underswap?" 

Stretch blinked at him, frowning. He took a drag of his cigarette before scowling and turning towards Blue. "I'll make you some snacks, bro. Looks like you're gonna need it." He shot another look to Dream before marching up the stairs.

———

With Error and Ink, they found it a little difficult to focus on the task at hand. They did get everything together, and a fresh tea pot steeping, but... no words were spoken between them.

Even when more tears fell from Ink's face that reflected Reaper's sorrow, the artist said nothing. Error moved to wipe the tears and hold him close, but that was it. Already, it had been a long day, and they still had to wait for the night's dinner... 

Ink sat on the counter, watching Error set up the tea set they weren't able to use with Cross. Fancy, beautiful, swirling designs, with Nightmare's seal at the bottom of each cup. _He had good taste_... Ink was loathe to admit. The details of each of the cups were subtly different, but equally stunning. Error glanced to Ink, thinking, before he added four sugar cubes into the artist's tea and handing it to him. 

Ink took it with a nod of thanks, but couldn't bring himself to try it yet. Or stir it. Even after Error spiced up his own drink, they stood and sat there in the kitchen, staring down into the cups. Feeling the pain in his face and behind his sockets getting closer, Ink set the cup aside and looked up. 

Reaper held Geno in his arms. Both wore different clothes, and it looked like Reaper had tried cleaning up his face a bit. His shoulders were slumped over Geno slightly, and when he looked to the others- 

Ink wrapped arms around the both of them, holding them close.

Reaper pressed his face into Ink's neck, Geno tucked away safely between their chests while the god sought out the affectionate comfort of their artist. "I got the package to-"

Ink shook his head, gently shushing the other. As much as he was dying to know just what went on during Reaper's mission, now wasn't the time to discuss some things. "Not now, hon. We can talk about it in a bit, okay?" 

"...Okay." The shorted skeleton murmured, exhaustion clear.

Yeah, Reaper definitely could do with a small break.

Face stinging and throat still irritated from nausea not his own, Ink admitted in the privacy of his own mind that he could use one too. "We made... a lot of sandwiches. There's some soup too if you'd like some, honey, though it's really just broth." Light, for Geno.

———

Blue crept closer to Dream once his brother was gone, eyes full of worry and fear as he eyed the box still beneath the golden guardian's hand. "...It's her, isn't it...?" he whispered.

Dream blinked, surprised. "I... how did-"

The confirmation brought tears to the shorter skeleton's eyes. Usually so bright and cheerful, it was almost startling to realize how much older he looked when a large smile wasn't drawing attention to the soft, childish curves of his face. "You wouldn't have actually sent Papyrus away if it wasn't personal, Dream."

Solemnly, Dream nodded, opening his- 

Blue flung himself into the other guardian's arms. With his face buried in Dream's chest, he could better control the volume of his sobs. 

"D-did she... s-suffer...?" 

"I don't know..." Dream whispered. And he really didn't. Maybe it was a quick execution to demonstrate to the husbands that Nightmare meant business. Or maybe it was dragged out for Nightmare to _prove_ that he _really_ meant business. Gently rubbing Blue's back, Dream continued, "I don't know, but I hope she didn't..." _That's all they had, wasn't it...? Hope?_

_Until they come up with a plan..._

Something tickled at the back of the guardian’s mind, but…

Dream shook his head, letting Blue soak up as much comfort as he needed. When the smaller skeleton pulled away, Dream murmured, "Which brings me to the next topic..." He passed the small paper over to Blue and waited for him to read it. 

"...Ink...? Ink's- w-wait, he's-?!" 

"Yeah. It seems like they're trapped there. I'm not sure how safe this assumption is, but we might need to assume that they're doing everything they can to protect each other in there, even if it hurts those out here... I..." Dream's shoulders slumped. "I can't even imagine what's going on there...."

———

"Thanks..." Reaper tilted his head and looked to Error.

"Do you want some tea?" 

After a moment to think, he nodded. "Breakfast blend, or black, if they have it..." 

They. Not we. _This isn't our home._

Ink pressed a kiss to Reaper's cheek and murmured, "We'll bring everything out to the living room, if you and Ge want to get comfortable..."

Dining in the living room didn't sound bad, so Reaper nodded. With a kiss of his own given to Ink's stained cheek, he carried Geno over to the sofa and carefully set him down, forced to readjust him and supporting him pillows just to keep the glitch sitting straight.

_...He's like a doll..._ It was an unsettling realization made worse by just how fitting the description was. Light enough to carry, posed whenever they set him down... Hesitantly, Reaper reached out and lifted Geno's arm. Not high, but just enough that when he released his hold, there was a soft thump as the limb fell back to the glitch's side; limp. Geno...

"Please wake up soon, honey," he begged.


	11. Optimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they gotta do what they gotta do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flipping Perspectives again~!

Blue wiped his face with a gloved hand, eye lights dim. "What... what do we do, Dream? Reaper..." he shuddered.

At the mention of his godly boyfriend's name, Dream straightened from his own tired, defeated slump. "You said he delivered the package, correct? Was that all?" He asked, trying not to think of just how little time he got with the god. With all of them, really.

"I have the footage," Taking another moment for himself, Blue pulled away from his friend and cleared away his remaining tears the best he could. With a deep breath, he nodded and forced his sadness down for now; determined to move on until he had time to grieve. "Let me pull it up for you."

Dream followed after Blue as he pulled up the recordings from at least three different places. Blue pointed to the ones by the ruins. The portal closed behind them, and for a moment, Reaper's face was entirely visible- 

_Stars.... what the fuck...? What is he...?_ Dream covered his mouth in a gasp. _Oh... oh that **asshole-**_

The faintest glow appeared underneath Reaper's hood before visuals of Reaper and Horror vanished. Blue pointed to the next one with a visual. "It took a bit, but he reappeared in front of this one and waved," pulling up the last camera, Blue let the footage run of the entire exchange. 

"Okay-" 

"That's not all, Dream," Blue pulled up one last camera, and they watched Reaper pull out his scythe. They saw him tense as two others came into view. 

Again, Dream froze. "No..." Blue gave a sideways glance up at him, but didn't say anything. Slowly, Reaper glanced over his shoulder to them and, fast enough that the camera couldn't quite pick up every frame, he swung. 

And the mother and son were gone. 

Horror had been laughing nearly the whole time, and with another swing of the scythe, the two were through a portal to Nightmare's. 

Numbly, Dream stumbled backwards and collapsed into the bean chair by Blue's workstation. "Does..." stars why is his voice so dry?? "Does the rest of the family-" 

"Keep watching." 

So Dream reoriented himself to the screen. The portal closed. After a moment, the child and mother reappeared, and the mother collapsed over the child, sobbing. 

"He... he didn't-?" 

"I think he was ordered to kill whoever came across his path," Blue murmured, "But he..." 

Dream shut his eyes. "Destroy this evidence Blue... Please..."

———

Error and Ink walked in moments later, and the three of them got comfortable on the couch and chair surrounding the coffee table. Ink passed out the sandwiches and soup bowls while Error set out the teas, spices, sugars, creamers and milks.

Nodding in thanks to the both of them, Reaper pulled his cup closer and set to filling the remaining space left in it with milk and spice. _Cinnamon..._ One of Geno's favorite flavors.

He added enough to make his tongue tingle. Better the overwhelming flavor of spice than the foul taste of tea. _I wish I didn't used up all the coffee from Cros-_ No. Reaper didn't want anything from that asshole, withdraw be damned.

"You want any tea with your milky cinnamon?" Error asked, sipping at his own dainty little cup tea with a judging brow raised in Reaper's direction. 

The god chuckled a bit, "I want the caffeine, not the tea." He really tried to like it, but he just... didn't. The taste refused to grow on him. Taking a sip, he shuddered. Somehow, the flavor of the tainted water still made it through. "What kind of sandwiches are there...?"

———

Fingers hovering over his keyboard, Blue frowned, unsure. "Shouldn't we keep it? At the very least, we should try to analyze the footage before-"

"No," Dream interrupted. "Blue, if... these recordings could put them in danger. Stars forbid this happens, but if one of the nightmares makes it inside of here? If they get ahold of your video footage? They'll have undeniable proof that Reaper disobeyed what I'm sure was a direct order for violence." Sadly, he reached out and skimmed the frame frozen on one of Blue's screen; the shot of Reaper's face. "...These videos have the potential to do more harm than good. Please, get rid of them."

Blue pressed a few keys, deleting the damning evidence, before the videos turned back to live feeds. He watched them for a moment before turning to Dream. "When were you going to tell me that you started dating them?"

———

Ink leaned forward, pointing to each pile. "Ham and cheese. Turkey and cheese. Tuna. Tuna salad. Salmon salad. Tofu. Tofu and cheese. I-if it's not quite right, I can make some grilled cheese? Or maybe a tuna melt? Or-"

"A ham and cheese would be great, Inky..." Reaper smiled a little at him. "You two really went overboard with this didn't you?" 

Ink passed him the requested sandwich as Error murmured, "Ink made the sandwiches. I just glared at the water until it boiled."

Pausing with the sandwich hovering just before his mouth, Reaper blinked, then laughed. "How effective was that?" he asked with a slight grin, still weighed by the day's experienced but unwilling to completely submit to his foul mood. 

Dipping the corner of his sandwich into his soup and taking a generous bite, Ink chewed thoughtfully. Around this mouthful, he said, "Error almost burned his hand," which didn't answer Reaper's question at all. 

Error's embarrassed sputtering made the shit answer excusable. "Fuck off with your nasty tofu sandwiches, Ink, I did not!"

"Then why is your sleeve charred?" The artist shot back. It wasn't, but the fact that Error rushed to actually check nulled the destroyer's denial about almost injuring himself. Dipping his sandwich again, he paused. "...Who wants to feed Ge, this time?" he asked, hating the question the moment it left his mouth.

———

Dream stiffened. "I... I'm not-"

"Your hand is still on the screen." An unimpressed expression settled on Blue when Dream quickly brought said hand behind his back, as if hiding it would erase what the smaller skeleton witnessed. "You've been at their house all month, Dream. _You’re taking care of their children._ How long has this been a thing?" Quieter, hurt, he asked, "When were either of you going to tell me?"

Dream slumped back down in his bean chair, looking up at Blue. "It... Ink and I were going to tell you. He joked about bringing a cake, and I told him no because of the last time... I wanted to tell you after my date with Reaps, o-or maybe a little later, but-" Tears grew in Dream's eyes. "It was only officialized the day _before_ Geno was taken..." 

"...but... you spent, what, a week there?" 

A pained laugh escaped the golden guardian. "Yeah... Error called me out on my feelings for Ink. One of the kids, Gothy... he started calling me 'Dunkle Dweamy', and finally, Spright mentioned something about it. And we had this whole discussion after the kids were in bed. It was hesitant, but we decided to give it a try, then Geno..." he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that fell. "Blue, I felt responsible...! I... I didn't want to leave the kids alone, even if they had their uncles... a-and-" 

"You weren't sure if you'd see them again...?" 

Whispering, Dream admitted, "I didn't expect to... I... I don't know what Nightmare's planning. I don't know why he wants them. I don't know if he's going to try and take the kids as more leverage. I j-just don't- _I don't know what to do, Blue...!"_

———

Reaper, being closer, already turned towards his first husband, but he paused and looked at the others. "This won't upset his stomach...?"

"It shouldn't," Error nodded. "It should settle his stomach and give him some of the nutrients he's going to need." 

"Okay..." he brought a bowl closer. He blew on a spoonful and gently coaxed Geno to take it, murmuring to him, "C'mon hon, the soup tastes pretty good too."

Geno let a few through, but eventually stopped. Frowning a little, Reaper tried to coax him to take more, but Geno refused. 

"Reaps... if he takes anymore, he might puke it up..." 

Wearily, Error murmured, "Let's just... try to make sure he gets something in his system every few hours, until he wakes up..."

———

Blue slid off his chair and rested his hands on Dream's shoulders. _Has... has Blue ever seen Dream break down like this before...?_ "Why don't we gather our allies and try to storm the castle?"

"I.... I don't know if that'll put them in danger.... or if they'll be forced to fight back." 

"And what about if I snuck-" 

"Ink would murder you just for idiocy's sake alone, if Stretch didn't get to you first." Smiling weakly up at him, Dream shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we need you here, keeping eyes out everywhere." 

"If that's the case, I think you should install cameras in their home." At Dream's hesitant expression, Blue frowned, "Then at least an alarm system, Dream? Please? Or... or adopt a few guard dogs for them? Because I'd feel better knowing you had that extra layer of protection. Maybe we can call Sci, get some advice on a picky barrier to protect the house?" 

Each suggestion Blue made, all Dream could think of was, _Nightmare could have the cameras tapped. Nightmare could disable the alarms. Nightmare could shapeshift into one of those dogs. Nightmare could trick the barrier into thinking he was me._

_But... could he really?_

_Not only **could** he…. But he **would** too…_

Slowly, Dream nodded. "Okay... if he isn't too busy, I'll ask..."

_Sci is smart, after all._ A genius, in some ways. If anyone could produce something effective in protecting the house from Nightmare, it would be him. _What if he's compromised? What if Nightmare got to him? Got him on his side?_

Shuddering, Dream pressed his palms over his eyes. _What if there's just nothing we can do?_

———

_**If** he wakes up,_ Reaper tried not to think. He didn't succeed very well, though he wished he did. Geno... stars, Reaper was so afraid for him. If... if he never woke up... _Stop, stop,_ He urged himself. _Stop thinking like that, idiot. He... Geno's going to be fine..._

He had to be.

———

Softly, Blue spoke, "Don't give up, Dream... it's too early to give up..."

Dream sniffed and rubbed at his sockets before looking up to Blue. "You..." he smiled a little, "You're right..." 

"Of course I am. I'm the Magnificent Sans!" He hit a fist against his chest and tried for a smile, "A royal guard, and a member of the Stars!" Blue continued more confidently, "Trained directly by Dream, Guardian of Positivity, and Ink, Protector of the AUs! I was taught to _never_ give up or lose hope in the face of helplessness and fear! Not that I would!" He nodded firmly. "Yeah. I don't want to be the last Star to fall, but if I am, I won't go down without a fight. So, Dream," Blue offered a hand, "Are you going to give up?"

———

Lunch more or less finished like that. Reaper eating and trying to feed Geno some more. Error slammed several cups of tea back while Ink stared at the coffee table with a half cup of tea in his own hands.

Impressive pile of sandwiches more than halved and tea now gone cold, Ink decided it was just about time to move onto more serious conversation. The stress of the conversation to come wasn't ideal, but... but he had to know. 

Throwing back his tea in place of the shot he desired, Ink turned to Reaper and asked, "How did the mission go?" _Did... did you run into anyone...?_

Did he _kill?_

———

Heh, his expression must have been _really_ pitiful if Blue was giving him a speech. "...No, I'm not." Dream murmured. Then, firmer, he said it again. "I'm not. I... I'm not going to give up!"

The words didn't come easy, but the more he said them, the less they sounded like a lie. Good, because Dream couldn't afford to let himself give in, though his brother would probably love nothing more than just that.

Blue helped him up, nodding firmly. "Good! I won't give up either. We've got too much to do for us to give up!" With a brave smile, Blue said, "I'll get M-Muffet settled then contact our allies. I'll ask them to keep watch for the nightmares, and the husbands. Maybe we can capture one of them and get some answers somehow?" 

Dream nodded. "As good a plan as any. Blue... I-" 

"Don't apologize for anything Dream," Blue's smile soften as sadness drifted into his eyes. "I understand where you're coming from, mostly, I just wish you'd told me sooner. But I know now, and I can try to pick up more of the slack from here so you can make sure they're safe." 

Tension faded from Dream's shoulders as he let a breath go. "Thank you Blue... don't... don't go overboard, though, okay? Or I'll sicc your brother on you."

———

Reaper's shoulders slumped slightly as he recalled the last bit of his mission. "....it was successful...."

Fiddling with the empty tea cup in his hands, Ink did his best not to just blurt his next question. "Oh, that's... that's good!" he said, smiling slightly.

The look on his face made it very clear that he had more to say; however, and Error sighed, taking pity on his idiotic first. "Reaps, just... no beating around the bush, okay? Did anyone end up seeing you?"

Slowly, the god nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, "I did."

"And... and you...?" Ink whispered.

_Is it safe...?_ They never checked for bugs, did they? Or even cameras. Reaper knew without a doubt that he could trust his husbands, but... _Can I trust these walls? Can I... fuck, if I say didn't kill, could someone hear? How... how could I signal to them...? That... that I didn't...?_

Reaper looked Ink in the face. _Please understand..._ "I did what I had to do." _Please understand that I couldn't bring myself to do it...! E-even if my head…_ He glanced to the side, then looked down at his cup again. 

Ink's expression still fell a little, but... _why did he...?_ Ink barely stopped himself from glancing over. Instead, he shakily reached out and rested his hand on Reaper's knee. "Okay..." 

_Okay...? Do... do you get it...? Or... or okay like you're forgiving me...?_

Error looked between the two with a slight frown on his face, sensing something off. For now, he ignored it. There was more to Reaper's day than the mission alone, he knew. "Did things go well afterwards? With that bastard, I mean. You... you had to report to him, right?"

_Nightmare's hand around his neck, the feel of finger tips stroking his nape..._ "Yes. I didn't take long."

Doubtful, Error frowned. "He didn't..." there were so many things he could have thrown in to complete his question. None of them were kind. "You're okay, right?"

_Demeaned as nothing more than a pet. A **bird.**_

"I..."

_The sound of his own voice calling Nightmare **master.**_

Falling silent, Reaper averted his eyes. He didn't want to lie to his husbands, but the truth wouldn't do anything to put their worries at ease.

Both of them exchanged looks, and Error murmured, "You don't have to tell us right now..." 

Ink nodded, trying to give him the privacy he needed. It wasn't easy. He wanted to _know_, but... he squeezed Reaper's knee slightly, hoping his husband could feel the comfort he was intending in the action, before pulling his hand back.


	12. Happy Holidays!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it specifies Gyftmas, but the authors both offer a Happy Holidays to all you readers!

_Silence used to be an undeniable comfort for Error. Then again, that was way back when life seemed... perhaps not better, but simpler. As a solo act, silence meant peace; peace from the giant eyesore that was the multiverse, peace from the disgustingly happy abominations scattered throughout the worlds, and peace from the noisy little skeleton who never left him the fuck alone. He used to revel in silence back then._

_And then he took a slick outstretch hand, returned a gleaming white smile, and all but sold his SOUL to a devil with lies hidden in his poisonous green gaze._

Nightmare...

_Under his control, silence steadily transformed from a comfort into something to fear. If Nightmare wasn't speaking and his emerald gaze was cold, then you knew damn well that danger sat before you. And if the king wasn't within view but the silence still lingered? Then you knew to keep quiet, because even whispers could carry far when no noise existed to muffle them. And people only whispered when they had secrets to keep._

_Absentmindedly, Error slid a palm over his flattened stomach._ Secrets huh...? _he thought, gaze sliding from the creepy little toy in his other hand to the crib a handful of feet away. Slumbering within, a little form rested. Paperjam._ His _Paperjam..._

_"My little secret..." Error whispered, turning his gaze back down to the toy he fiddled with._

_Paperjam was close to nearing his first birthday, but no one really knew about him. Part of that was paranoia. The other part was his reluctance to leave his home until his ecto finally,_ finally _faded away. It had done so pretty recently, but... was he ready to introduce his son to the world?_

_Around him, the silence of the doodle sphere weighed on his shoulders._

_"Well... I guess it's time for your uncles to learn they're actually uncles, baby abomination..."_

_With that thought in mind, he flipped the furby in his hand around and yanked on the string to hear the recording hidden inside._

_Near the end of the message, he heard shuffling. Tensing slightly, he drew strings from his eyes even as logic told him,_ You're safe in the Doodle Sphere, everything is okay, you're safe, **he** can't get you here! _his instincts pushed him to fling out the strings capturing- "Oh, an idiot."_

_"Hiya Ru! Oh, are you starting a foreplay with me already?" Ink grinned at him, wrapped several times in the strings. Unconcerned, he stretched onto his tippy toes to try to peer at the Furby, "What's that you got there? Why's it sound like Fresh?"_

_After a moment's pause, Error let Ink go and more fully presented the toy. "It's an invite from Fresh. A holiday party."_

Would he have sent this if I was still....? _The thought of Nightmare with his brothers made him shudder, even as the weight of the abomination left his hand._

_"Woah," Ink's eyes turned to stars as he looked it over. "It's kinda creepy! Hey, what's that ticking sound?"_

_"What tick- INK,_ DROP IT-!"

_Color exploded from the damned thing, covering the two in confetti, silly string, and glitter. Though Error's mood dropped, Ink busted up laughing and bounced in place. "I like this brother of yours Ru!" he checked his scarf really quick and nodded, seeming to remark to himself, "Yeah, Fresh is your brother. He's got style!"_

_PJ woke up with the explosion and, once the debris settled, began to cry._

And his name on my murder list... _Error grumbled._

_Shooting Ink a nasty look, the destroyer left his idiotic husband—Stars, his_ husband— _to poke and prod at the furry remains of the furby while he himself went to check on their son._ No foul scents, and it's too early for food... _so it was the noise from the explosion alone that woke Paperjam from his nap._ Fresh, you fucking idiot.

_When he stepped up to the crib and peer in, wide sockets full of confused fear met his gaze. Wailing, Paperjam struggled against the knitted blanket keeping him warm in order to release tiny arms that wanted to reach for the skeleton he recognized as his parent._

_Softening, Error leaned down and took the little thing into his arms. "Shhh, it's okay," he whispered, freeing Paperjams arms and offering the distraught infant a finger to cling to. "It's okay, baby abomination. That loud noise wasn't anything bad."_ Just your uncle's shit planning.

_Although he calmed slightly once held, Paperjam continued to cry._

_Distracted by the noise, Ink made his way over and slid an arm around Error's waist to peer at PJ. Softly, he cooed, "It's okay!" He blinked once, quickly checking the bit of scarf close to his neck before sipping some pink and snuggling closer, "It's okay Paperjam," he murmured. Ink offered the child one of his own fingers, smiling brightly when PJ clung to it with one of his free hands. "Ru, you should say his name! What if he forgets?"_

_Error glanced at him. "Ink,_ you _forgot."_

_"But I remembered to check!_ And _I remembered to write it down!" He puffed up his chest, grinning at the destroyer. "My memory must be getting better! Right, Ru?"_

Is it...? _Error half shrugged, dropping his gaze to their child._ Stars, I hope you've got my intelligence, baby abomination. You're taking a **lot** after the squidiot in the looks department... _"There there, nothing to be afraid of except Ink's idiocy."_

_"I love you too, Ru!" Ink rested his head on his shoulder, smiling at PJ. "Ah, he's so_ cute!"

_As always, warmth rushed to Error's skull at the casually sweet words. When that warmth settled in his cheeks, dark bone flushed with bright color that made Ink smile wider when he caught sight of the pretty yellow hue._

_Out of deeply ingrained habit, he toyed with a vial filled of color matching Error's blush and sampled a small bit. Not too much—he didn't need an explosion of joy, after all—but just enough to compliment the gentle pink tones he consumed mere moments ago._

_"Tch, idiot..." Error mumbled, angling both himself and his precious burden towards Ink. "You shouldn't be so damn noisy all the time. At this rate, he's going to grow up thinking that peace and quiet is some sort of fucking myth."_

_"Language Error," Ink scolded, still smiling._

_Rolling his eyes, the destroyer muttered a defiant, "Fuck you," and nudged Ink out of his way so that he could sit on their bed with Paperjam in his arms. Fear of crushing their son in his sleep made Error strict about lounging in bed with PJ in his arms but, for all his issues with memory, he trusted Ink to keep an eye on them should he nod off. So far, that trust had yet to be broken._

_"Are you free this weekend? Or are you and your_ buddies _working? Fresh dropped hints about dragging you along to the party. Apparently, being my husband makes you apart of the family."_ My husband, my husband, my husband... _his stupidly smiling husband. His Inky._

_Error was quick to hide a grin by pressing a kiss to Paperjam's skull._

_"This weekend...?" Ink stared off into the distance, then pulled away to check his scarf. "No....? Nope! But I can check with Dream later!" to prove to Error, he pulled out a small paintbrush and quickly wrote the note closer to his neck before diving back in and snuggling to them. "A party? I'm part of the family? Wait, yeah! Husbands are part of the family! Hehe, I've never been part of a family like this before. How exciting!"_

_At Ink's almost careless admission, something within Error ached. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was probably his heart and all the affection it contained for Ink. And perhaps an understanding far too deep for his comfort._

_"Tch, exciting isn't the word I'd use. I mean, what do you even remember about them?"_

_Ink's guilty expression said it all; nothing. "U-uh, I think I have a sketchbook with some notes somewhere! Just let me-" a hand caught his hand. "Ruru?"_

_Eyes on Paperjam's sleep heavy sockets, Error murmured, "Just... stay here for now, idiot." When Ink wasn't quick in returning to his side, he glanced up with an embarrassed scowl. "The party isn't until Friday. You have time to learn all about my brothers' quirks and shit. For now, just sit your ass down..." Quieter, he admitted, "I missed you."_

_Ink's hands fumbled for his vials. What was the right mix? More pinks? Another splash of sunshine yellow? Both? Feeling overwhelmed, he settled for swallowing as many pleasant mixes and he could think of before all but diving back onto the bed._

Error never admits that he misses me!

I think? _Still, he happily held his little family close and pressed an eager kiss to Error's cheek. And pulled away slightly to snicker, "You taste like glitter."_

_"I-_ what?" 

_Laughing a little more, Ink reached up and wiped away some glitter to show him. "You have Furby guts all over you!"_

Disgusted, revolted, even more angry at Fresh- _but that damned snorting laughter. Hideous as it used to be, Error found himself trying to hide another smile. "I'll have to fix that then," he muttered with an annoyance he just barely felt._

———

_The day of the party, Error found his artist husband zooming all over the house in the Doodle Sphere. "I need to clean this! Is this okay for me to wear? What about you? And PJ? Oh it'd be so cute if you two matched! Oh but I wanna match too. Wait, I need to wash my paintbrushes! Maybe I can make an outfit for-"_

_Error finally grabbed hold of him, "Ink._ Relax, _will ya?"_

_"I wanna make a good first impression," he pouted. At Error's look, he paused. "S-second impression? Oh no, I don't remember what kind of impression to make...!"_

_"Third impression," Error sighed, though his tone was fonder than it was frustrated. "They were at our wedding, idiot. Y'know, the one we had before my stomach swelled like a fucking balloon?"_

_There was a touch of confusion in Ink's eyes before it cleared. As it did so, a brilliant smile took over the artist's expression. "I do know!" he exclaimed, pleased to find the memories swimming through his head. After a moment, red and pink settled heavily on his tongue like fine wine. When he blinked, intense hearts filled his sockets. "I also remember our wedding night, Ruru~ you didn't want to have sex with Jammy in your tummy so we-"_

_"Pick a damn matching sweater and get dressed," Error snapped, flustered. "The others already know you're an idiot from meeting you at our wedding and my brother's-"_

_"Fresh is married?"_

"Geno's _wedding."_

_He didn't show it, but concern was starting to dig it's nasty little fingers into his heart. Much like his haphephobia, Ink's memory troubles came and went with various intensities. Sometimes, he went the week forgetting small things like which table in their home he left his brushes. Other times Error awoke to a skeleton fiddling with his wedding ring with no immediate recognition in his eyes. He was starting to worry this was one of those worse days._

_"Pick out our clothes, get dressed, and then help me with PJ. I'm going to give him a bottle and a bath before we get him into his party clothes."_

_Ink practically giggled, "His party clothes~!" and wandered off to their closet, humming a little holiday tune._

_Cradling PJ just slightly closer, Error watched him go with his frown in place._ Is this a good idea...? Should we be leaving for this party? 

_He dropped his gaze to his son._ Am I ready to show you to them...? 

_"Hey Ru!" Ink called out. "Red and green or silver and blue? I think the silver and blue would match your strings better. Thanks for telling me!" and he disappeared once again._

_"Sure."_ I didn't say anything... _He smiled at PJ and rubbed the little tyke's cheek with one thumb. "Guess you're gonna be a little silver bell tonight, huh? Much better than a mistletoe. Although...." he glanced to the door again then shook his head. "Nah, a bell would be cute."_

_At that very moment, Paperjam sneezed. While doing so, the force of the action released a startling loud 'poot' from the little guy's diaper._

_Error wrinkled his nasal cavity, but took that as an agreement._

———

_By the time they made it to Fresh' front door, Paperjam was fed, squeaky clean, and happily snoozing in what had to be the puffiest jacket Error had ever seen._

He looks like a marshmallow, _Error thought while waiting for someone to answer their knocking._ You can't even see the clothes he's wearing under.

Scribble, scribble... scratch, scratch, scratch.... scribble...

_"Ink, put the damn sketchbook away." he said without looking at the artist in question. When the sketching didn't stop, he rolled his eyes fondly and shuffled Paperjam to his other arm in order to knock again. Trying not to be too loud, Error called out, "Open the damn door, Fresh! It's fucking cold out here and I_ will _disown you if my so-ooomething freezes!"_

_"If your something freezes?" Ink murmured. "Maybe we should warm you- oh hi Fresh!" Ink finally looked up and grinned._

_Standing in the now-open doorframe was the most neon colored skeleton either had ever laid eyes on. Well, he wasn't as neon as usual what with the parasite responsible for the horrible wardrobe change being gone, but the colors still clashed and made Error's head hurt. "Eyyy ya made it!"_

_Grumbling, Error said, "Let us in already..."_

_"Sure ya don't want a romantic sin in da snow?" the sunglasses suddenly switched to "??-??" then "!!-!!" and finally "MINI-BRO!" as his gaze settled on the fluff in Error's arms. "Bro... is that a baby? Is da baby_ yours?"

_Stiffly, Error said, "Is there a_ problem? _Or-?"_

_"Nah nah! Was jus' expectin' ya and da artist bro!" Fresh cooed over PJ, then promptly stepped aside to let them in. "Wow! Jus' wow! Who-?"_

_"Ink did," Error quickly answered. "Uh... womb. The child."_

_Ink, momentarily lost in the several switches of conversation, glanced in confusion at Error, which the destroyer purposely mistook. "Remember?" he murmured._

_"O-oh! Yeah!" though the artist's voice didn't sound too convincing, Fresh seemed to let it go. _

_"Dat's pretty rad, bro, though I hope ya ain't thinkin' of any sinnin' act in my crib here."_

_Error glanced around his brother's house with a strained smile. The headache that was Fresh' wardrobe was tame in comparison to his home. Orange and green striped walls, purple shag carpet, a sofa dyed in a multitude of colors that didn't match a neon yellow armchair... Stars, looking at everything hurt._

_"I rather freeze my_ stick _off than_ funk _in this house." Pausing, Error turned to Fresh with an expression of disbelief. "Did... did you just_ censor _me?"_

_Grinning sheepishly, the colorful skeleton nodded. "Ain't tryin' ta cling ta old habits or anything, but that language ain't meant for lil dudes, bro."_

_Error glared, "He's not even off bottles yet, idiot._ Hecky-heck, _he can't even speak! Any swearing I do is just going to go right over his head!"_

_"Careful there, Ru! Your voice is getting a little loud," Ink warned, flipping his sketchbook closed for now. Rather than tucking it away in his inventory, he slid it into the overly packed baby bad he had slung over his shoulder to free his hands so that he could gently stroke Paperjam's tiny skull._ "You're _the one always saying Jammy needs undisturbed naps!"_

_"Jammy?" Fresh echoed, grinning widely at the cute name._

_Subconsciously, Error held his son closer to his chest. "...Paperjam," he corrected._

_"Paperjam?" Fresh glanced between the two and nodded. "Ya, dats a good name-" there was a knock on the door and he said, "Scuse me. Prolly Gen-bro!"_

_Ink grinned up at Error and pressed a cheek to his chin. "You're gonna keep cursing aren't you?"_

_"Fucking believe it," he grumbled, looking to him. "Are you doing okay?"_

_Ink blinked at him. "Me? I'm fine! You...?"_

_Error shrugged and looked down to Paperjam, who seemed to be waking up a little with the growing excitement._

_The door opened with Fresh excitedly exclaiming hellos to Geno and Reaper- "Ge-bro!! Are ya pregnant?!"_

_Error whipped his head around to look at his other brother._ What??

_Geno was...? Oh gods. No._ No.

_Overwhelmed by a surge of overprotectiveness, Error pressed Paperjam into Ink's arms and stormed off towards the door with an infuriated expression, exclaiming, "You're_ dead _grim reaper!"_

_"Just Reaper, remember?" said god corrected with a nervous grin._

_Knowing better than to touch, Error clawed at his eyes in order to pull free his infamous blue threads. At the sight of his rounded brother, he snarled and shot after the skeleton foolish enough to think he could escape his wrath._

_"You_ funked _my brother?!"_

"Funked, _actually." Reaper paused and tried again. "I_ funked _Geno._ Funked? _Huh, weird." With ease, he twisted out of the way of dangerous strings and plucked Geno off the floor to both cuddle and use as a human shield. "You can't blame me for_ funkng _him though, Error! Just look at him! He's tempting!"_

_Feeling far from tempting with a rather pronounced stomach straining beneath his holiday sweater, Geno huffed and snuggled into Reaper's hold. "We're married, Error. Did you really think we weren't having, uh, sinful fun all this time? Or even_ before _our marriage?"_

_Geno's words did nothing to calm the destroyer. "Why are you having sex?!"_

_"Because I'm an adult and it feels good and- aw, a baby!" Geno cooed, successfully distracted. Then, he realized just who was holding the baby. "Error," he began slowly, "Why is your husband carrying a baby?"_

_"It sprouted from his forehead when I cracked his skull open for being an idiot."_

_Geno stared at him flatly, "A plus for the bull_crap _but why don't you give me an answer with a little less creativity and a little more honesty?"_

_"Reaper! Geno!" Ink shifted PJ into an arm to wave excitedly at them. "You're having a baby too? Do you know if they're a boy or a girl? Ohhh that'd be so cute for PJ to have playmates! Ru!" he walked over and took one of Error's string-covered hands, apparently oblivious to the vengeful skeleton. "C'mon Ru, don't attack them!" he cooed. "It's a party, isn't it?"_

_"Ah, so da three of us are uncles of_ two _little ones!" Fresh stepped away from them all, grinning brightly. "Dis an unexpected gift!"_

_Geno narrowed his eye on Error. "You're getting after me about being pregnant when you didn't even tell us you two had a baby?? Who-?"_

_"Ink carried him," Error answered, one again a little too quickly. "His name's PJ." Though he shot two fingers from his sockets to the god's gaze, muttering, "I've got my eyes on you."_

_"Do you?" Reaper grinned. "I suppose, if you wanted to watch Gen and I-"_

_"What-? No! Ew, no!" Error turned towards Ink and grumpily offered hands to take PJ back. Pausing at the interested gleam in his husband's eye. "Ink."_

_"What? O-oh right, no thanks, Reaper!" Ink smiled at Error. "I was just thinking about us, Ru!"_

_Somehow, the destroyer could guess those thoughts were... less than pure._

_"Just give me my son, idiot," he grumbled, trying not to look too desperate for Paperjam's now familiar weight to return to his arms. "Quick, before you drop him on his head._ Again."

_"I-Ink!" Geno cried, alarmed._

_The glitch wasn't alone in his mortification, though no one's horror was greater than Ink's own. "I... I dropped Jammy...?" he whispered, crushed._

_Guilt ate away at Error. "...No, you didn't." Ink was a lot of things and carelessly could be one of those things, but not with Paperjam._ Never _with Paperjam. Error just needed his son back and was resorting to nasty tricks to fulfill that need. "I..." he faltered and looked away. "Sorry."_

_Ink's hand twitched towards his vial of blue. "Ru, that was a really mean joke..." but he dropped his hand and passed their son to his husband anyways. "Next time, ask normally, glitchy!"_

_"Hey," Error and Geno complained, both offended by the nickname that referenced the destroyer but really could have been used for either one of them._

_Still, the relief of PJ back in his arms almost washed away the guilt, and Error kissed his forehead, murmuring an apology again. Ink seemed to accept that, because he grinned back and looked over to the god and his- "Are you gonna hold him the entire night?"_

_"Yeah, Reaps, are you?" Geno looked up to him, not entirely opposed._

_Reaper smiled softly down at his bundle. "Maybe."_

_"Alright!" Fresh clapped, bringing everyone's attention onto himself. "Welcome! I got snacks in da kitchen and ya brought da entertainment!" he snickered, throwing finger guns at both of his brothers. "What say we hang out now, huh?"_

_"Chocolate?" the other two brothers questioned as one._

_A little offended at the unintended implication that he didn't know his brothers, Fresh turned to the two with a pout and glasses that read_ "UHHH-DUH?" _on the lenses. "Dis ain't my first rodeo, brobros! I got chu covered."_

_Sheepish, Geno muttered an apology even as he directed Reaper closer to the table. "Is anything, um, spiked...?" he glanced down at his stomach in dismay. "If so, I need to avoid that for Gothy's sake."_

_"Gothy? Are you seriously naming your spawn_ Gothy?"

_Geno shot a look at Error's precious bundle before narrowing his gaze on his brother, "As if the equivalent of yours and Ink's shipname is any better?"_

_The destroyer opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, then shut again before finally scowling, "Whatever."_

_Amused by their bickering, Reaper nudged things along with an innocent addition of, "Gothy is just a nickname, too. His real name is just Goth, no 'y' at the end." Handing Geno a plate, he grinned and waited for a response while cheerfully selecting some food for his husband._

_Ink, creative as always, made the realization first. "Goth...? Goth..." glancing between the unborn child's parents, he squinted, then snorted with a smile. "Oh! I get it! Goth, as is **G**en**o** and Dea**th**! That's really clever!"_

_"And you just gave_ me _shit about my son being named after us?!?!"_

_"Ours is subtle!"_

_"Subtle my-" A chocolate truffle interrupted the destroyer._

_"Tasty, huh?" When Error quickly swallowed and went to yell, Fresh shoved another sugary treat in his mouth. "C'mon bro! Less bickerin', more holiday fun!"_

_"Yeah, Ru!" Ink grinned to him, sampling a chocolate just to interrupt himself with a groan that had Error blushing. "These are so_ gooooood.... _Fresh,_ please _ya gotta give us the recipe for these."_

_Brightening, Fresh said, "Sure thing, broski! Ya gonna write it in ya sketchbook?"_

_"Oh that's a good idea!" Ink glanced at his arms, shuffling what he was holding to one arm to pull his sketchbook out again._

_"Ink, don't-" Error watched his husband with a sigh as he somehow successfully balanced everything and wrote in his sketchbook exactly what Fresh told him. He dropped his gaze to Paperjam and smiled a little, "Well, I guess if he doesn't drop anything, huh, little guy?"_

_"Beehh!" Paperjam squeezed his eyes closed in a huge yawn, little fists peeking out of the puff ball he was wrapped in._

_"Yeah, you're right. He's still gonna be an idiot, huh?"_

_Geno waddled over to him and peered down. "Oh he's so_ tiny...! _Oh my stars,_ oh my stars _Reaps! Reaps, do you think Gothy's gonna be this tiny?"_

_Error grumbled, "You're smaller than me, glitchface. Your abomination's probably gonna be cursed with that same lack of height."_

_Geno's socket narrowed. "If you weren't holding a literal angel right now, I'd bite you."_

_"Ooo~ kinky~" Reaper and Ink chorused. Pausing, the two looked up from their piling of food and notetaking respectively and shared a grin. "Jinx! Double jinx!_ Triple jinx-"

_"Reapsy," Geno whined, "Are you still picking out food or can I eat yet? Gothy is hungry..."_

_"Oh! Just give me a second, Gen! I'm going to get you a drink to go with everything!"_

_"Thanks, hon."_

_Fresh and Error exchanged a knowing look. Geno could have waited for his food. He just wanted to nip the whole 'jinx' thing in the bud._

Thank the stars he did. _Ink was an endearing annoyance, but that was on his own. Error didn't want to know how bad his husband could get with Geno's own spouse around to add dumbass fuel to the idiot train. "Inky, do you have PJ's sweater in the bag? He's going to sweat buckets if we leave him in his jacket for too long."_

_"Oh yeah! I have his sweater right..." Ink dug into the bag and dug out a cute sweater that said "Little Gremli- elf". "See? I remembered!"_

_"That's because I packed it..."_

_"Oh... well, here it is!" Ink put everything on a single chair and walked over to him, offering to pick him up. Error hesitated, just slightly, before gently passing PJ over. "We'll be back!" Ink announced cheerfully before sneaking over to Fresh and whispering, "Where's the bathroom?"_

_"Down da hall, first door on da right, broski."_

_"Thanks!"_

_Error's fingers twitched at the lack of weight and warmth, feeling a little strange without his bundle near._

Ink has him, he's fine... _Error told himself, the words a mantra meant to soothe the rising anxiety he could feel bubbling up within him._ Just... calm down, you idiot. He's only going to be out of your sight for a few minutes.

_That just... wasn't something Error was exactly used to. For all he knew that Geno reveled in the title, Error himself wasn't all that accepting of being referred to as a house husband. It made him feel... chained, in a way; bound to remaining within the Doodle Sphere not by choice, but obligation. And yet, a house husband was exactly what he was. Ink went to work, Error stayed home, and Paperjam was always, always with him while the little guy's fa-_ mother _was out. It was their norm as a little family of three._

_For Error, it was a comfort, if only for the reassurance it offered in regards to **him**. When Ink was out patrolling and performing his duties as a Star, Nightmare had a distraction and_ Error _had reassurance that there were no eyes on his son. Not with the Protector drawing all attention to himself by foiling the negative creature's plots._

_Still, a comfort or not, spending all his time around PJ may have resulted in a bit of an... attachment issue. Not on the child's side, but Error's._ It's been three minutes, what the fuck is taking Ink so long? 

_Should he check on them? Yeah... Yeah, he should definitely check on-_

_"Broski? Brooo? Error-brah?"_

_"What?!" he snapped, gaze planted firmly down the hall Ink disappeared into._

_"We asked ya a question butcha didn't respond. Hello? Brah?" Fresh's hand waving in his face finally drew Error's attention to the colorful skeleton. A little concerned, Fresh asked lowly, "Is everything okay, Error...?"_

_"...yeah," he muttered, relaxing just slightly when he heard Ink's cooing voice walking closer. "Yeah everything's fine." He turned back to look at them, smiling just slightly._ It's better. 

_Geno brightened and tugged on Reaper's sleeve, gaining his attention enough to whisper to him, "I wanna get Gothy a buncha cute clothes, Reapsy!"_

_"We will, we will. At least let him be born before you start growing his closet even more, Gen," Reaper chuckled._

_"Eyyy, so I got some rad vids we can watch if anyone's interested? Da dinner's almost done in da oven too."_

_Reaper glanced down at the plate piled high with snacks in his hand._ There's... more food...? _Cringing, he handed Geno the drink selected for him and turned back to the spread of treats. "I should put some of this back for- Geno!"_

_Swiped plate in his hands, Geno turned around and bolted towards the armchair in a fast waddle. "Movies sound good to me! Error, you missed the last..."_ ten or so _"...holiday get together, so why don't you and Ink choose the first movi- Reaps!" he whined, reaching up in a futile effort to retrieve the magic encased plate hovering over his head. "Give me back my snacks!"_

_"Gen, baby, I got you way too much. If you're still hungry after dinner, then you can have more but you should- Geno!"_

_Glaring defiantly, the glitch pelted his husband with yet another pillow from Fresh' sofa. "Give! Me! Back! My! Snacks!"_

_Error used the commotion the two were causing as a distraction to snatch his son back up. "Go ahead and pick a movie, Inky."_

_Ink blinked at him, taking a moment to process that PJ was safe in Error's arms again before smiling at him, "What movie do you wanna watch?"_

_Error stared at him for a moment, recognizing the slightest uncertain shuffle in the other's feet._ He doesn't remember what would constitute a good holiday movie to watch... 

Does... does he know what holiday it is right now...? 

_For some reason, that made the destroyer very very sad. "Choose the one with the dumb looking reindeer thing, Inky. The one that reminds me of you."_

_"With the elf that reminds you of you?" He asked innocently._

_Scowling, Error bumped hips with him and grumbled, "Just pick a damned movie. I'm sure Fresh has some themed ones visible by the TV." He made his way over to one of the chairs and snuggled PJ closer._

_Discreetly, he gave a little sniff while doing so._ Good, no diaper change needed yet. _Ink didn't take any with him when he went to change Paperjam though, so that was likely to change soon if the little guy had yet to soil himself. Hopefully, not too soon._

_"I found the movie, Error!"_

_"What are you telling me for? I'm not going to give you a gold star." Still, he allowed himself a smile at the sight of Ink's pout. "Fine, fine... great job, Inky. You can have all the fucking gold stars you want when we get home." No reason to let the others in on the fact that gold stars was a code for kisses. "Just put the DVD in for now."_

_"Uh... this... isn't a DVD...?"_

_Aside from Fresh, everyone glanced over at Ink in confusion. "Oh!" Appeased by Reaper finally returning his plate of snacks, Geno grinned and made his way over to the artist's side. "It's a VHS tape!" Excited, he turned to the set up Fresh had and looked everything over. "This goes... here!"_

Of course Fresh has a fucking VHS player... _Where he got one, Error wasn't sure, but he knew damn well that his youngest brother most likely went out of his way just to acquire one in excellent condition._

Unless he.... _Well, Error couldn't see him_ not _building one. But why he would...? That didn't matter too much after a couple minutes, when Ink thanked Geno and happily ran over to cuddle up next to Error and PJ._

_Reaper settled himself down on the furthest side of the couch, smiling at Geno as the smaller sat next to him and leaned into his side. With his plate of goodies at the ready. Fresh brought everyone their drinks, a plate of his own sweets and sat down between his other two brothers, grinning brightly._

_Almost distractedly, the artist leaned closer to Fresh, pulling his sketchbook out to ask with a whisper, "I got the whole recipe here right...?"_

_Fresh looked it over and nodded after a moment. "Ya, ya got it there bro!"_

_Smiling just as brightly, Ink wrote something on his scarf and settled back into the couch, an arm around Error's waist._

_They were only halfway through the movie when Paperjam began to fuss. Another quick check informed Error that he was still mercifully saved from diaper duty._ And he's already been fed recently, so... _That made wakefulness and boredom the baby's most likely cause for squirming about._

_"Hey, hey... calm down..." he murmured, taking care to keep his voice low as to not disturb the others. It didn't matter much though. Everyone was already watching him shift Paperjam around so that the fussing child could see the characters on tv. "There, look. The tv is showing you a lot of fun colors."_

_Blinking curiously, PJ tilted his little skull and happily made a mess of himself with drooly spit bubbles at the sight of the tv. "Bllerp!" he cooed, squealing with babyish laughter in enjoyment._

_"Shhh, others are trying to watch the movie too, baby brat."_

_More high pitched, shrieking giggling answered the destroyer._

_Smiling, Reaper wiggled his fingers to catch PJ's attention. When it worked, he added a hint of magic around his phalanges and wiggled them more to amuse the little guy. "I don't think any of us mind if he gets noisy, Error. He's just a baby." PJ squealed. "And really, really cute."_

_Nearly bouncing, Ink said, "Isn't he??" He blinked at the magic around Reaper's fingers and grinned. "How funny..."_

_"What's that?"_

_"I do that to entertain him too... but with paints."_

_Fresh chuckled and glanced over to them. "My bros got hubbies dat act similar huh?"_

_God and artist stared at each other, slightly surprised by the reaction._ Did they act similar...? 

_Geno and Error exchanged glances and cringed._ Yeah they do... Sometimes perverse, sometimes annoying, overall endearing and caring, and they both try... stars they really **did** act similar... 

_"No... I'm not sure that's quite right," Reaper chuckled._

_Ink agreed, "Yeah, I don't see it!"_

_Error grumbled something to himself, which apparently amused Paperjam, since the little guy squealed again and reached for his face._

_Having resigned himself to being weak against his son the moment Paperjam opened his eyes, Error sighed and leaned down so that he was within the little thing's reach. The moment he was, a tiny hand tried to stick itself in his socket._

The tendril forced itself deeper into his skull. With a scream, Error-

_Jerking his head back, Error carefully held Paperjam slightly away from himself with a strained smile. "N-nnn... no, Jammy. W-we don't st... s-stick our hands in people's sock...ets..." he scolded._

_A pair of symbols, a gaze hidden behind glasses, and a singular eyelight all turned in Error's direction at the noticeable stutter. "Bro...?" Fresh murmured, voice cautious and low._

_As subtly as he could, Ink offered his own arms to take PJ while Error got himself under control, though the destroyer shook his head and held PJ close to his chest again. "M'f...fine," he grumbled._

_The artist nodded and seemed to let it go, though Error wasn't blind to his husband keeping them in his sights._

_Uncertainly, Fresh and Reaper tried to let it go too, though Geno still found himself frowning a little at Error and asking himself too many questions to focus on one to ask outright._ Now's probably not the best time... _"Just let us know if you need something, alright?"_

_With his grouchy demeanor back, the glitch wasn't expecting Error to say anything and was surprised with a quick, "Sure," as a response._

_Returning the response with a smile, Geno nodded then turned back to the film in an attempt to pay attention to the movie. It was hard, but he managed._

_For all of five minutes._

_Discreetly, he glanced back to Error. Then at the movie. Then back to Error. The movie, Error, the movie, Error..._

_"Oh for fuck's sake, just tell me what's on your damn mind already, glitchface."_

_Flushing in embarrassment with a sheepish smile, the glitch turned to face Error. "Sorry, I just..."_ worry about you a lot _"...can't really believe you're actually here. I mean, we talk a lot on the phone and everything, but... neither Fresh or I have seen you in what feels like years, Error. It... it's just nice to actually have you around."_

_He huffed, settling into the couch more. "Thanks...? 'Sides, I saw the both of ya at our weddings."_

_Ink snuggled into Error's side, humming fondly. "I kinda wish I could get you into a suit and tie more often..."_

_"Tch..." though the memory of Ink in the most beautiful dress- already he was blushing huh. "Whatever, Squid..." which had Ink smiling more._

_"Yeah," Reaper murmured, "But our weddings were at least a year ago, weren't they? It's... really been a while, Error."_

_He fidgeted slightly and PJ, sensing his parent's distress, started to fuss a little and whine._

_There was a lot about this whole parenting business that Error still had to learn, but shifting Paperjam into a cradle was a seamless transition at this point. No matter how fussy or squirmy his son got, Error's arms would always be a perfect fit for his little form and would never mishandle or drop the sometimes fitful infant._

_"Shhh," Error whispered, "It's okay, PJ. It's okay."_ **I'm** okay, little guy. _A little trapped beneath all the questions he didn't know how to answer, but perfectly fine. "I've been busy."_

_"With the nephew you kept hidden from us for... how long exactly?"_

Not nearly long enough. _"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly mention the fact that your stomach now looks like a watermelon during any of the phone calls you mentioned."_

_Reaper's arm tightened around the glitch. "Error, that's a little-"_

_"I wanted it to be a surprise," Geno interrupted with a waver in his voice. "Yeah, maybe I waited a little too long to share the news, but we... we didn't know if my_ condition," _he motioned to the nasty wound slashed across his torso, "would affect anything. I wanted to make sure there was actually going to be a baby to tell you about."_

_Gently, Reaper added, "We still don't really know, either..."_

_Uncomfortable, especially being literally between both of his brothers, Fresh glanced to each of them. "Ya both kept yer babies secret for various reasons. Gen-brah's are valid, Error-brah's are secret, but they're for reasons ya both seem to find important. But now we all know, right?"_

_Error and Geno glanced uncertainly to Fresh, both about to respond, when a ding came from the kitchen. "Ah! That'd be da food! Pardon," he murmured, rising from the couch and making his way into the kitchen._

_With Fresh gone, an awkward silence settled over the four left behind. Five, if the infant innocently unaware of the tense atmosphere could be counted._ Where do we go from here...?

_"Sorry," Geno mumbled, gaze averted from the couple only a few feet away. "I shouldn't have brought something like that up at a party. A Gyftmas one, no less."_

_Error stared down into his son's curious sockets. As he did so, all the anxieties he tried to keep away slowly filled his mind._ What if something happens to him? What if PJ gets hurt, or becomes sick? What if I lose my baby boy? _Paperjam was both in perfect health and safe with both his parents near, but Error's fears never left him for long._

_And now he knew his brother was worrying over those same fears. The reasoning was different, but the terror held for their children wasn't._

_"...I'm sorry too," he whispered._

He was expecting an answer, but when Error opened his sockets and turned to face his brother, he knew that there wasn't one coming. 

Between one blink and the next, the brother from his memories was gone; replaced by a glitch with scars on his face, emptiness in his eye, and a pregnant belly not nearly as large as the Geno he recalled from all those years ago.

"Back then, you forgave me for being shitty," he whispered. "You didn't know nearly as much about what was going on with me as you wanted, but you still knew _me._ Even though I was being a snappy, paranoid ass on Gyftmas, you knew it was because I was afraid, and you didn't hold it against me."

Still as ever, Geno merely breathed softly and stared before him without truly sleeping.

_Are you awake in there, Ge...? Can you hear me, or are you asleep and lost in a dream?_ Did it even matter though? Awake, asleep... no matter which it is, his brother was still out of his reach despite being seated barely a foot away. 

Shakily, Error reached out and took his hand. "You shouldn't have forgiven me for being an asshole back then, Geno. Stars, I hope you never forgive me for letting you get hurt once you're finally awake." He wouldn't deserve it…


	13. Cross My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the teacher has new things to learn, and the pupil has had enough.

It had been a few days since Muffet's dust was returned to Underswap. A few days that Dream utilized to his fullest. With Spright's permission, Dream was able to convince Spright's job to have him work communications from home, to better keep an eye over the kids too. 

But today, Dream had special plans... 

Special and necessary plans. 

Wearing clothes much darker than he was used to, he sat in the corner of a coffee shop, glancing out at the rest of the patrons. It wasn't until a lovely skeleton with a very modest, flowery outfit sat across from him that he glanced away from everyone else. "Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd make it," the skeleton murmured, almost nervously. 

Dream met Cross' eyes and offered a small smile, "It seems like both of us were busy..."

The smile was returned, but there was no joy in it. As serious as he was during these meetings, Cross usually showcased at least a little emotion, yet none of that was present now. It was worrying, but understandable.

Last time they saw one another...

_Cross sighed, "Hands separated, single file. Error, you go first, then the artist, and then the god. I'll be behind you all. Go."_

_Reaper clenched his jaw but the three of them did as instructed. Ink looked to his husbands, a stone of dread sinking in his bones. Schooling his expression back to one of annoyance, Error stepped through, and the others followed. Cross glanced back, looking away from Dream's piercing golden gaze, and the portal shut behind them._

Overcome with a sudden rush of anger, Dream looked away. _He was just doing his job..._ but that job took away everything Dream ever wanted before he even had a chance to cherish them all. "Why did you call this meeting, Crissy? Every time I tried contacting you this last month, you shut me down. What changed? Why _now?"_ The hurt in his voice not entirely faked. If anything, the genuine emotion would help with their little quarreling lovers act.

Cross sighed, the sound softer with his carefully pitched voice. "I thought I could handle things on my own. I... I was wrong. They don't trust me. Not anymore. I need...help." Quietly, "They won't put their faith in me unless someone they trust vouches for me. A letter, a small note... I need something from you, Dream. Something I wouldn't be able to fake."

_A perfect opportunity to get some information for himself...._ "I can't help you until you give me more details, hon." 

Cross wrung his hands together and glared down at the table. "I don't know what my... _manager_ is thinking. Sh-she's been changing plans left and right with next to no warning. She'll tell me one thing, then do something different. It... it started off with small things. A... color, a word, but..." Cross leaned forward slightly, cringing at the pain in his ribs. "Just last week, we had an event that... didn't go as planned," he met Dream's eyes. 

_Last week...?_ The week when the month was supposed to have ended. When they were supposed to have come home. _An event... that was... a fight, right? Shit they hadn't used that term in a while..._ "What happened at the event?" 

"I was supposed to be off." _I was told I would stand on the side and judge the fight._ "But they called me in." _But I had to fight._ "And it was, gods, it was a long shift!" he whined. _I lost against the God._

_Wait... if Reaper won, doesn't that mean they should've come home...?!_

That question must've reflected in Dream's eyes because Cross shook his head. "We had to clean up after the event, and my manager..." _We were going to celebrate after the fight, but Nightmare..._ Cross paused, uncertain of how to say it. "She... thinks she found the perfect elevator pitch to recruit new hires." 

Dream stared at him, letting the words process. _If... if new hires means the husbands, then... oh..._

_Elevator pitch must be code for something. Obviously..._ Dream pulled a menu in front of himself and squinted down at it. _Elevator pitches are something quick and dirty to get people's interest- oh. **Oh...** Nightmare still has Geno captive..._ "What's so enticing about this elevator pitch?" 

Breathy, Cross answered, "There's a certain... _glow_ about it." 

_SOULs. Geno's SOUL...?!_

Weakly, Dream whispered, "I... I'm guessing it worked? Your boss... she was able to recruit some new hires then, no issue?" _They didn't try to fight, right? They didn't put Geno, or themselves, at risk?_

Taking hold of a menu for himself, Cross flipped it open to a random page and brought it close, squinting as if he were having difficulty reading the text rather than appearing like he was trying to hide. "At first, some of the new hires seemed like they might give boss some trouble, but she... well, you know how it is. Income, good _health_ care... they're hard to live without, these days." _They were rowdy, at first, but they wouldn't put Geno in danger by fighting._

Waving away a nearing waiter with an apologetic smile, Dream slowly nodded in response. _Of course they wouldn't endanger him..._ "And you, Crissy? You're not getting along with your new coworkers?" _Why don't they trust you?_

The menu crinkled under Cross' tight grip. "I... I was in charge of organizing the elevator pitch." _Nightmare had me watching Geno._ "That was my only task at the time, but... rumors started spreading around at work. Honestly, I'm pretty sure my Boss began them." _I know he did._ "Now, the new hires think I was screwing around when I should have been focusing completely on organizing the pitch. They..." he swallowed. "Well, they think I fucked it up by _literally_ screwing around." _They think I fucked him._ "Usually, I wouldn't let this bother me, but..."

Dread a heavy weight in his stomach, Dream shot Cross an encouraging smile. "Go on, honey."

Cross looked away from his eyes. "There's... there's pretty damning evidence. I... I have to organize a maternity leave now." Quieter, so no one else could hear, he whispered, "And it isn't for _me."_

Dream breathed in sharply. _Maternity leave...?_ That- maternity meant... _Oh gods, no...!_

Cross' guard dropped slightly. _Frustration, anger, exhaustion. Fear._ "I told her to do what she needed to do, then... this happened... and I don't know how to... I haven't- I wouldn't-" 

_Truth._ Cross was telling the truth. 

"Dear, I'm just trying to protect them," he raised his lights up to Dream. _Stars, he looked so much more beat up than usual_. And the way his shoulders were drooped slightly made Dream think Cross was resigning himself to some fate he didn't want to deal with. "Hon, they're making it _so much harder_ than necessary. And... and my manager-" the menu crinkled even louder. Cross forced his hands open to drop the menu. "I... I don't know how to help. I don't know what to do." 

"And that's why you need me to vouch for you?" 

Again, Cross' voice dropped to nearly inaudible volume, "Dream, it's _his family._ I... I thought **she'd** be done with after the month, but... i-it's not a good deal. I... _Dream, please...!_ I... you can dig around in my emotions all you want. I just-" 

Dream reached across the table and covered Cross' hands with his own. "I trust you. I know you. You have a good SOUL. You're a kind person who's done horrible things to survive. Just... please. _Please_ guide them as best you can." 

Tears formed in Cross' eyes, surprising both of them. Quickly, he took his hands back and hid behind the menu to wipe them away. His guard shot back up, but not fast enough to hide the flare of trust and admiration and embarrassment from Dream. He cleared his chest and murmured, "Th-thank you..."

Eyes softening, Dream murmured a quiet, "No problem," before reaching out and gently easing Cross' menu down. "Look, since I have history with the new hires, I'll try to help you out, okay? It'll need be subtle though. Enough that my interference won't be noticed so that you won't get in trouble." _They'll trust something from me, but I don't want you getting caught._

Relieved, Cross slumped slightly in his chair. "I have a pen and notepad you can use. Unless you have something else in mind?"

_A note is risky..._ Cross would hide it cleverly on his person, but a note meant physical evidence that the nightmare was working with Dream. That kind of undeniable proof... it was risky. _But what else can I do...?_ His signature color was too noticeable and anything with his magic linked to it would draw Nightmare's attention the second Cross returned to the castle. 

Absentmindedly, he toyed with the long strip of braided thread around his wrist. _I could really use one of your idiotic ideas right now, Ink,_ he thought, tracing the thin strand of rainbow. _They're terrible, but at least they're creative enough to somehow wor- oh._

Slowly, he slipped the bracelet off. Error made me this... Heh, he said he'd finish it when he got back, but Dream had tied the ends together the second week of their absence, in desperate need of the comfort; of the reminder of who he was waiting for. _My bro- **Nightmare** has never seen me wear it._

A plan was forming in his head, but it was dangerous. If Error and the others didn't understand the meaning of what he planned to do... I could add a small note. Just a few words to remove doubt. Looking up, he looked over Cross' outfit, then nodded. 

"Crissy, lend me that pen and paper." Unknotting the bracelet so that he once again had a long strand of braided cloth, Dream carefully set to unraveling the individual pieces of colored string. It has to look natural. "Also, I'm going to need a thing strip from your shawl."

Blue for Error.

Black for Reaper.

A pretty gradient of color for Ink.

A sparkling gold for Dream.

Red for Geno...

...And lavender for Cross.

———

Three sharp knocks echoing through the fake house startled the husbands from their sleep. A glance at the alarm had Error snarling with annoyance. "What the fuck does that asshole think he's doing waking us up before our alarm...?!"

Ink mumbled, "I'll go get it. You wake Reaps up real quick, okay...?" Rubbing his sockets, already regretting everything, Ink made his way downstairs and cracked the door open. "Cross... what's going on...?" 

"Let me in first." 

Lights flashing symbols, Ink opened the door more and stepped aside. "As if I'm allowed to deny the second," he just barely refrained from hissing. He watched Cross walk in, noticing how the second wore light-weight clothes and had his hands in his pockets. _That's too casual a stance, isn't it...?_ Ink wasn't sure he even cared. 

Of course, Cross ignored the quip. He glanced around. "I have approval to continue training the three of you," he turned and met Ink's gaze. "We're going to train until I think everyone proficient enough, and we're going to go at my pace." 

"....so you woke us up before our alarm....?!" Red flickered in Ink's sockets. 

"Yes, we're starting today. I can wait until the three of you finish a light breakfast, but I want you ready within the next forty minutes. Wear something light and breathable." He made himself comfortable on the couch and sighed, seemingly content. "I'll wait right here."

Like candle lights faced with a strong breeze, Ink's eyelights flickered, then extinguished completely. When he blinked, they returned as bright, glowing targets painted charred red; anger mixed with blackened **hate.** _Who does he...?!_ He stopped the thought there.

But he couldn't toss aside his rage so easily.

"Did you order Geno around like that?"

At once, the calm relaxation in Cross' postured faded. "Ink," he began seriously, "I'm only going to say this once, so listen very closely: Anything involving Geno? Drop it."

"Another order..." Ink murmured, red flaring brighter before the dark, inky black melded with the crimson once more. It should have made his eyelights difficult to see within the darkness of his sockets, but the otherworldly glow around his aggressive symbols ensured that wasn't a problem. "Did you try ordering him into bed with you first, or did you know going into it that he would refuse? Which was it, Cross? An order, or getting straight down to business?"

"Ink, stop."

He sneered. "Bossy, bossy. I guess that's answer enough." _What am I doing...?_ He stepped closer. "You told him to sleep with you and he said no. Gen's faithful, after all. Prideful, too. No matter how scared he was, no matter how much pain you threw at him... he wouldn't give in like _that._ Not when-" _Sex is important to him. To all of them. Intimate..._ "So, when he said no, you had to force him." Another step. "Did you get that scar by forcing him down? Did Geno make you bleed _before_ you fucked him against his will," This... this was wrong. Using Geno's abuse to piss off Cross- "or _while_ you were hurting him, you fucking rapist?" -was wrong. But...

But Cross was just sitting there like nothing was wrong in the world while Geno slept upstairs; dead eyed and _traumatized_ by the abuse he faced. 

And Ink was _angry_. Terribly, horribly angry.

"You terrorized him." Ink hissed. "You- you took something special from him and left your mark by leaving him with a _child_. My _husband_ probably doesn't even _know_ he's pregnant because he's suffering the repercussions of your disgusting actions and yet you... you're just sitting here like none of that happened. You took him from us. Even though he's right upstairs, you took him from us, and now you're here to take away what little time we get with the _husk_ you left us with. You want us to train? You want us ready soon? Fine, but gather up whatever fucking decency you have left and _get out of our hou- room._ Wait for us outside, or leave and come back. Wherever the fuck you go, just make it out of here because you don't deserve to be anywhere near him.*

Footsteps sounded from upstairs. Two pairs.

Only ever two others now, not three.

"Get out, Cross," Ink growled. "We'll be ready in forty minutes."

Silent. Unnervingly silent. Cross glanced away from Ink, standing with his hands still in his pockets, he stepped by Ink. Thankfully avoiding contact with the artist. He left out the door and shut it gently behind himself. 

_WhatamIdoingwhatamIdoingwhatamIdoing...?!_ Ink shuddered and gripped himself tightly. The anger wouldn't **leave**, but fear for Geno's SOUL finally triggered as Error and Reaper became visible. 

Error leapt the last two steps and bolted over to him. "Ink? Ink what happened...?!" 

"I..." he faltered. 

"Ink," Error whispered harshly, "What did he want?" 

Ink blinked and met Error's sockets, shaking harder. "We're going to be training with Cross until he thinks we're _proficient enough._ We've got forty minutes to eat something and change." 

Reaper was right behind Error. "Ink, what did you do?" 

Even softer, Ink said, "I y-yelled at Cross. Told him to get out..." 

Reaper and Error shared a panicked look and Ink flinched from their grasps, trying to drag himself out of that cold fury. "Let's just get this shit over with-" 

"Ink..." 

Ink hunched in on himself more, hissing out the bitter words, "Just... I know I fucked up.... I... _I know...!"_

"Ink, why did-"

"I'm _angry!"_ Ink snapped, voice breaking as desperation settled in his still tainted gaze. Faced with his husbands, the symbols began cycling through their randomized shapes, yet the color remained; that terribly unnerving crimson-black. "I... he just waltzed in here! After he- after everything he did, he walked in here and sat on our- on _the_ couch. _Geno_ sits there!" he stressed, breath starting to quicken. "H-he-! That's where he sits we're down here and _Cross_ sat there. He just... he got himself nice and comfortable in Geno's spot."

A mere fraction of Ink's own anger showed itself on his husbands face, though it quickly bled into shock. "Ink-!" Error gasped, stepping forward. "You-!"

"I fucked up, I _know,_ Ru, but I..." Gripping his skull, Ink grit his teeth and begged the anger to fade. _I don't like how this feels. The anger, the hate... it made him feel ill._ "I couldn't help it. I don't- it was just _there_ when he did all that. As soon as I saw him, I was angry. And when he sat down, when he spoke, it made it worse and I- I just-"

"Ink, you're _crying,"_ Reaper cut in softly.

Error shakily reached out a hand. "It... i-it looks..."

Briefly, his fingertips skimmed Ink's cheek. When he pulled his hand away, the same crimson-black of Ink's eyes stained his fingers, more black than red.

Eerily similar to Ink's _blood._

The three of them stared at the tears, surprise in all of them finally overriding Ink's anger, if briefly. "My..." Ink reached up and touched them too, staring down at them- 

_Catching a few more tears with his thumb, Ink went to swipe them away just as he did with the rest only to freeze, just now noticing the color of Geno's bath water..._

_...and the matching hint of blue in Geno's tears._

Quickly, Ink grabbed Error's wrist and dragged him over to the sink, washing his husband's hands and his own before washing his face clean. 

"I-Ink...?" Reaper followed nervously. "Are-?" 

Ink buried his face in one of the kitchen towels, murmuring, "Let's get some food, okay...?" 

Error stared at him. "You idiot, now isn't the time to be hiding shit from us-" 

Voice dropping with his rising panic, Ink admitted, "I... I can't tell you if I don't know for certain myself...! Just..." He shut his sockets and scrubbed his face dry. "I'll try to control my anger a little bit better..." 

Again, Error and Reaper exchanged glances. _That isn't going to be easy...._

Breakfast went by quickly. Sickened by his own foul emotions, Ink could only manage a little more than half a cup of yogurt before he had to call it quits. Instead of tossing it out, he slid it over to Error when he noticed the destroyer reaching for a second up to eat.

Error didn't look pleased. Thankfully, no argument erupted over it.

Dressing took less time than breakfast. They had clothing similar to what they wore the day of Reaper's battle against Cross neatly folded in the dresser that was easy to find. Since it was sparring, none of them bothered with shoes, recalling that the flooring of the training where they last practiced was padded. 

_Small mercies..._ Reaper thought, staring down at his bare feet. More than a month of being dressed up in whatever Nightmare pleased and he still had yet to grow use to the restrictiveness of shoes. "Do we have any clean towels left...?" They had about fifteen minutes left before they had to leave, he noted.

Error cringed and shook his head. "No, we... we need to request more later, along with access to the laundry room."

Black completely overtook Ink's red for a moment. "We can't-" he stopped. _We don't have a choice._

With Geno unable to handle his own morning sickness, they had to resort to preparing him for their absence carefully; sitting him up straight, bracing him with pillows... wrapping him with towels and cut plastic bags to keep him clean...

Bathing happened daily now. If they needed more towels, then they had to ask. At the very least, Geno deserved to be clean and comfortable.

"I'll request a meeting later." Error sighed.

Ink shot his frustrated look down to the floor. _Not right, not fair, not okay, not good, not-_

_When's the last time I felt sunlight on my bones...?_

_Useless useless uselessuselessuse-_

"Ink," Error tugged on Ink's hand. "Take a breath. You'll have plenty of opportunities to vent your frustration in a bit, but... please, just-" 

"I'm trying... I-" Ink shut his sockets. _Go away go away go away...!_ "Ru... h-hon, I'm **trying**...." 

Reaper pressed a kiss to Ink's cheek. "We all feel-" 

_"I know..."_ Ink instantly regretted the words coming out in a growl. "I.... Reaps..." 

Reaper didn't take offense. Instead, he and Error offered what comfort they could to each other and to the artist. They murmured their goodbyes to Geno, promising to be back as soon as they can. As they walked down the stairs, three sharp knocks sounded, shattering their efforts to calm Ink down. 

Sighing, Error muttered, "At least he _knocks._ C'mon, let's go." 

This time, Cross merely glanced to each of them, then gestured for them to follow, and walked. No judging glares or glances. No greetings. No orders. Silence. 

Annoyance spiking yet again, they followed.

The path was one familiar to them all by now. Down their hall, right at the corner, down that hall, left, down three doors, ri-

...left?

_We're going to a different training room...?_ Disconcerted by the change, Error frowned. "Where are we going? The training rooms are the other way." he asked, voice gruff with dislike.

"I submitted a few requests to Nightmare concerning your training. I was also informed that my request were accepted. Today, we'll be conducting your lessons outside on castle property. The equipment has already been moved."

"OuT- _outside?"_

"Outside?" 

"...the castle has an outside...?" 

Cross glanced to each of them. Error, Reaper, then Ink, with the artist's truly startled question. "....we do indeed." He looked forward, going down some stairs. "Of course, there's going to be some more rules with the..." he shook his head slightly, _"privilege_ of being outdoors. There's going to be a line that, once inside, you shouldn't leave until the training is complete." They stopped by some doors and Cross paused with his hands on the knobs. He glanced back over his shoulder again. "....are you three ready?"

_We’re-?! Is... is this guy serious?!_ Stars, Ink was-! He... he was...

Ready didn't cover it.

For weeks now, they lived their lives within the confines of the castle; every room both simple and grand alike constructed with windowless walls. Daylight, twilight... just the sky in general seemed more like a myth than reality at this point. Had the word not physically pained him with a rush of intense blue, Ink would have called getting to catch so much as a mere glimpse of the outside world a hopeless _dream._

And yet... here they were; about to be allowed outside for the first time since their arrival. Hopefully, this wouldn't also come to be considered their last. 

"We're ready," Ink breathed, too eager for the sunlight that awaited for them behind those doors to bother with reminding Cross of his anger through his voice. _Oh, but the sun isn't up yet, is it?_ A shame, but if training took long enough they'd get to see the sunris-

Cross pushed opened the doors.

Pale beams of moonlight shined down from a midnight sky.

At Reaper and Ink's twin stares of disbelief, Error moved forward and took their hands, "Come on guys..." 

"Where... where's the sun...? Shouldn't... the sky should be getting lighter with beams of light announcing the sun's arrival...!" Ink looked around frantically for said signs, but still found the moon and stars above them. 

From ahead, Cross spoke up, "This world hasn't seen the sun since Nightmare made his home here." Reaching a table, he paused and looked up to the husbands, a flash of uncertainty easily masked by boredom. "If this isn't good enough we can head back-" 

"No, this is fine," Reaper and Ink were too quick to answer, though guilt reared up slightly in both. _Geno's still inside. How long has it been since Geno's seen outside...? Even if it was the moon and stars… it’s more than they’d seen in weeks…_

Cross nodded and placed his hand on the table- oh, was that really a chest...? Ink stepped closer, but tightened his grip on Error's hand. He needed an anchor.... 

"So... what are you going to have us do right now?" Reaper bit out.

The question was expected, yet Cross still hesitated before beginning his explanation. The lingering crimson-black in Ink's eyes making his rehearsed words difficult to recall. "...Throughout your stay, any improvements made through training have been noted and passed down to Nightmare. For the most part, he's deemed you all acceptable, though Ink..." he didn't look to the artist, "You've impressed him the most, so far."

Had Ink's loyalty to Nightmare been of his own violation, the news would have overjoyed him. To impress Nightmare... 

Error closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to continue looking at Ink's poorly hidden disgust. _I used to want that. Impressing Nightmare... fuck, that's all I ever wanted, back then._ And yet, here he was now; horrified over Ink earning Nightmare's attention. Not out of jealousy, but out of concern for his husband. 

Impressing Nightmare was arguably worse than disappointing him.

Error didn't want Ink to have to realize that anytime soon. "So what? Ink is going to play cheerleader while Reaper and I train?"

Shaking his head, Cross flicked his eyelights in Reaper's direction before turning to address Error. "Until he proves inadequate and in need of lessons during training, Ink will assist as a second teacher. God, our battle brought your...abilities to Nightmare's attention. You're to work with Ink on what you _now_ consider your least proficient weapon and on those talons of yours. Error, you're with me."

Annoyance flared through Ink. "Oh, so you and I are _co-teachers_ now? And what about you? I'm _certain_ you aren't proficient in everything." 

"Unless Nightmare orders you to train me, or you disappoint him, then yes. We're co-teachers." Cross kept his gaze on Error. 

And of course, that didn't fare well for Ink's temper. 

Reaper stepped between the two, looking up at Ink. "Cmon, Inky, let's just start training, okay?" 

"If we have enough time, we can switch partners," Cross added. 

"If I didn't know any better," Error began as he walked to the chest of weapons, though he directed the words at Cross. "I'd say you were afraid to face Ink." 

"Then it's a good thing you know better, Error." 

Betrayed anger flashed hot through Error, and he faced Cross. "There was a time I trained **you** Rookie." 

"That time has long passed," Cross' voice dropped to a growl.

_With a grunt, Error hit the floor. Hard._

_Before he could push himself up to his feet, a heavy weight settled on his lower back and he growled, turning to look over his shoulder at the wide, proud grin being tossed his way from the skeleton pinning him. "Don't. he warned._

_The grin grew wider. "What's that thing you like to say all the time, Error? Y'know, the thing about... flying pigs? Oh no, wait. It was something about artists."_

_"Cross, I'm warning you. Don't."_

_"What was it, what was it...? Oh yeah!" Cross' voice raised in pitch, too high to correct mimic Error's and annoyingly dramatic. "The day you win against me is the day I confess my undying love for the protector. Well, better get yourself some roses, Error. It's time to fess up!"_

_"Oh fuck you!" Error shouted, scowling darkly. Him and that stupid, smiley artist? Like hell! "This was a fluke, damnit! Let's go again."_

_"Nope! You los-"_

_With a sudden shift of air, Error disappeared from beneath Cross and appeared just behind him with a reared back leg. Before Cross even realized what was happening, he slammed his foot into his back and kicked down until Cross was sprawled across the floor face forward; Error standing victoriously with his foot on his back._

_"Less number one, Rookie," he smirked darkly, "never let your guard down."_

_Cross groaned._

"Yeah..." Looking away, Error threw the lid of the chest open and began rifling through the contents for his choice of weaponry. "I guess it has. It's funny though..." his fingers curled around cold metal, "Back then, I actually use to think you were worth my time. You had potential. What a fucking shame all those lessons were wasted on a rapist."

Again, nothing. No visible reaction from Cross anyway. Ink glared at Cross, but grit his teeth and turned his focus onto Reaper. 

"...your lessons were always the best, Error. You always explained _why_ certain moves were wrong or right-" 

"Do you think I care what you think anymore?" Error turned towards Cross. Finding the guard without a weapon, he snarled, "What are you doing?" 

Cross ignored his question. Instead, he gave Reaper and Ink more space, motioning for Error to follow. At this distance, their words didn't easily reach the others, though they were still in view of each other. "You acknowledged that what we did was wrong, but it beat being homeless and shunned. And one day, you just seemed... _happier."_

"So, what, you tried following in my footsteps, but you twisted your path and hurt Geno?!" 

"Have you not hurt your loved ones before?" 

Error lost himself to his rage, lunging forward, "YOU DON'T LOVE HIM!!" 

Easy dodge, and a palm to Error's chest had the destroyer stumbling back. "You're right, I don't. If so many circumstances were different, I could see myself falling for him. I admire him." 

Again, Error lunged forward, swiping at Cross. Another easy counter, though this time was a slap in the face. Attack, dodge, light retaliation. 

_The bastard wasn't even hurting me...! Wasn't even trying!_

"What the fuck are you playing at?!" 

"You're putting too much into the swing, Error." Cross circled him slightly. "You're making it too easy for me to unbalance you. So either use that to your advantage, or put more direction and less weight into the swings." 

_"You're too emotional," Error muttered. "You let your fury and excitement get the best of you, and it's making it too easy to read your attacks. You have to become unpredictable, or let those predictable cues continue to throw off your opponent."_

Error hissed, "I taught you that." 

"You taught me a lot of things, Teacher."

“I never taught you that _rape-”_

“If anything,” Cross interjected, “You taught me how _wrong_ it was-” 

Error snarled, going in low for an attack, “Apparently I didn’t teach you _well enough!”_ Cross side-stepped at the last moment when Error flipped the weapon upwards. 

“Six years have passed and you still have the same trick. Fake an attack and go in the exact opposite direction. It’s smart, but not against me.” Cross frowned at Error. 

Error reached out with a curled fist. Again, Cross danced backwards. Error glanced down to his hands, which were firmly tucked in his jacket pockets. “Not getting _hot_ in that jacket, asshole?” 

“Your attacks haven’t even left me breathless, Teach. You’re running yourself down with your own anger.” 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” 

Finally, _finally_, some emotion cracked through that apathetic shell of Cross’. He smiled, just slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why don’t you make me, Teach?” 

_With his hands in his jacket pockets, he won’t be able to react as quickly. Maybe I can grab his jacket-_ Error’s attack was nearly a flurry of jabbing motions, none of which hit Cross. “Force you to shut up like you forced Geno to-” 

The jabbing stopped abruptly as Error’s weapon was ripped out of his hands. “Are you fucking done yet?!” Cross snarled. 

_Opening!_ Error grabbed Cross by his jacket and hefted him up just to _slam_ him into the ground. “I SHOULD RIP YOU _BONE FROM BONE_ FOR TOUCHING-”

Cross broke Error’s grip and kicked him off, just to leap onto the destroyer and pin him down, finally losing it with a wild burst of frustrated anger, “I DIDN’T FUCKING RAPE GENO!”


	14. Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a little bit of truth manages to clear a lot of tension.

Alarmed by the rush of emotion Ink had felt from Cross, the artist and the god stopped their own sparring to run over, ready to defend Error against the raging second, but… Ink was crying. _A deep deep blue-purple. Betrayal, pain, frustration, intense and shoved down sadness._ “How the fuck do you think I could fucking do that…?!” 

Error struggled against Cross’ grip. “I don’t believe you. I don’t- it’s been six years-” 

Cross shoved Error’s wrist further into the ground, rage flaring in his sockets, though tears formed in his eyes. “I didn’t rape him. I _didn’t-_ After **everything-”**

“Cross, _don’t…”_ Error snarled, “This is just another script-” 

Cross stared down at him. “Heh… heheh….” That broken laughter continued, even as he shoved himself off Error and took a few steps back. Reaper moved to reach Error, but Ink grabbed his wrist tightly. “Another script?” Cross sneered, “You really think so? Do you want to know something about those _fucking scripts_ Nightmare gave me, _fellow Second?!”_ Cross picked Error’s weapon up and faced him, snarling, “I was told to talk in _detail_ what I supposedly did to your brother. You know what I fucking did, Error?! You want the fucking _details?!”_

Error’s bones felt like ice. “No… no, don’t-”

“It’s only fair, isn’t it? You’re so _obsessed_ with how I’ve _changed._ I’ll tell you what I did.” Cross advanced dangerously on Error, weapon swinging carelessly down by his side. “I walked in to see his clothes torn. I gave him my hoodie. I talked to him, even though I was _directly ordered_ to leave him in silence. One day, he stopped responding. I screamed his name, dammit…! I… I _cried_ his name! I tried to get him to eat because he was starting to waste away. Oh, but I _raped_ him, didn’t I? I fucking _told_ you. I fucking _warned_ you about Nightmare!” 

Reaper tensed, whispering the words he recalled Cross saying so long ago, "Trusting Nightmare is stupid.” 

Cross shot his gaze up to Reaper, then flicking those sockets to Ink. “But you fucking _idiots_ are so focused on Nightmare’s words…” He glared back down at Error. “You’re so fucking _obsessed_ that you-” Cross threw the weapon down at Error’s feet then whirled on Ink. “But go ahead. Believe whatever Nightmare tells you. The boss said it, so it’s all obviously true, right?” He reached into his pocket and shoved something into Ink’s hands. “Now, why don’t you assholes take a break for the moment.” 

Ink glanced down and froze. 

_Blue for Error._

_Black for Reaper._

_A pretty gradient of color for Ink._

_A sparkling gold for… f-for Dream…_

_A-and red...for Geno..._

_And a lavender, for-_

Cross slammed his guard back into place, voice suddenly apathetic again even as tears flowed down his face, “Take five minutes,” he ordered, and stormed further away to pull a bottle of water from a small compartment in the chest. 

The woven strings were tied around a piece of vellum-like art paper with… 

_D-Dream’s handwriting….?!_

Carefully, Ink unfolded the scrap of paper so that the condensed, jumbled bit of handwriting read clear. Breath stuck somewhere in his chest, he read the message in Dream’s clear, flowy script.

“Lavender is such a soft and **pure** color...” _Why the emphasis on pure? Circled twice, underlined...?_ Ink didn’t...

_Lavender is Cross, isn’t it? The color of his magic. Soft means gentle. Kind. So, Cross is kind and...pure? I don’t-_

Suddenly, the breath Ink previously couldn’t manage rushed out all at once as a surprised laugh. _Cross is kind and a **virgin**._ He deciphered.

As his tears continued to fall, the colors shifted from Cross’ now blocked distress to relief. This didn’t change what happened to Geno, but... “Cross didn’t hurt Geno.” He breathed. “He... he didn’t hurt Ge. We can _trust_ him, guys.” 

They weren’t alone in this hellhole.

Error sat up, staring at Ink while Reaper muttered, "Even if we take this at face value, it doesn't change the fact that Geno was abused, and unresponsive." 

Ink walked over. He handed the braided threads to Error and the note to Reaper. With a lowered voice, Ink said, "He got my message, Reaps. And Cross' outburst? That's... he's been keeping it in this whole time..." Ink glanced over at Cross, who had just finished his third water bottle. 

Reaper was still doubtful. Still suspicious. "Why not just say so? Why-" 

Ink looked to him, "Remember the last time we trained together? And he said he'd let that near-death experience go?" 

Error spoke in almost a whisper, "He's been trying to protect Geno too..." _Oh, Rookie..._

_“I walked in to see his clothes torn. I gave him my hoodie."_ Cross' words... they were familiar, weren't they? Not the words alone, but the actions Cross claimed to have taken in regards to finding Geno n-naked.

_Soft, warm fabric was dropped onto Error's head. When he froze, unsure of how to react, gentle hands carefully reached out and adjusted the clothing around him; careful to never once skim fingertips over the very bones Cross sought to cover. When he was done, the other skeleton pulled away and took a step back to offer him space._

_"There." Cross murmured, eyes full of an anger he kept from his voice for Error's sake. Thankfully, he hid his pity too. Error wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it. "That's..." He stopped himself from saying better. A single hoodie alone couldn't make this situation better. "...Heh, I told you I'd get you try wearing white one day. Isn't too bad, now is it?"_

_Error's jaw trembled. Cross was his height, but his clothes somehow seemed so much larger than his own. With his knees held close to his chest, the soft material fell down and complete hid his mark-ridden form. "Y-yeah," his voice broke as fresh tears began to fall, "it... it could be worse..."_

_There were lavender splotches on the sleeve he used to wipe his eyes with. Blood; from when Cross punched the door upon having the horrible realization of what led to Error's current state. Must have smeared when he took the hoodie off, Error thought._

_The sight of it made him cry harder._

_When was the last time someone had been angry for his sake? He pondered the question, but he couldn't think of an answer._

Regret. It was an emotion Error knew well. This time, it was... stars, the strength of it made him ill. Or maybe it was more than his regret that sickened him? Maybe... no, there were no maybes.

His festering anger, the spiteful tone he took with Cross... the pointed comments... they _definitely_ played a part. Not just in the form of regret, but as _shame._

_Tears streamed down Cross' face. Bitter, angry, and betrayed, he curled his hands into fist and spun into the motion of a punch; grunting as his knuckles cracked upon meeting the door behind them. "He's our **king!** He-! He's supposed to protect us! He's supposed to... t-to-!" Anger bubbled up his throat as a sob. "How could he hurt you like that, Error? Fuck, that-! We're... we're bad guys. Not..." Voice cracking, Cross hurried to remove the belt and scarf acting as barricades from reaching the hoodie beneath. "We're not monsters. Not... not **that** kind, damnit!"_

Too sudden to prepare for, Error curled forward and began a series of harsh gags, emotion spiking violently. _How the fuck could I think he'd do that Geno?_

How could Error believe **Nightmare** over his **friend**…?

"Ru?" Reaper reached for him, but Ink pulled him back. 

"No, no, give him some space," Ink murmured. "Ru...? Error, honey, do you need some water?" 

Error nodded sinking to his hands and knees, trying to stop his meager breakfast from coming up. He tightened his grip on the braided threads and shut his eyes. _Stars... a-and Dream....?_ Cross grabbed a few more bottles and walked over, tossing one to Ink and Reaper before setting one by Error. He cracked the fourth one open and took a few sips from it. "A couple more minutes, and we'll have to continue sparring." His words were a lot softer than they had been, but still seemed... distant.

Ink looked up to him, "Cross-" 

He interrupted with a shake of his head. "Don't worry about it, Ink. And please try not to ask me questions I can't answer."

_Don't worry about it...?_ Out of everything Cross ever asked of them, that was one of the hardest commands to follow. Then again, it wasn't a command. If anything, it was plea; Cross' soft tone containing a hint of the sadness he couldn't entirely keep from his voice.

Thinking back to some of the things Ink said to the second's face made him ill, though that may have just been Error's nausea bleeding into his own emotions. Still... _I called him a rapist._ Ink had thought worse things about the black and white clad skeleton in the safety of his own mind, but... Stars, how did that feel? _He's been trying to protect all this time and I repaid him by calling him a rapist._

Shakily sinking down to sit at Error's side, Ink took a long, cold sip from Error's water bottle before carefully pressing it into the destroyer's hand. Hopefully, it would soothe both their stomachs.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, too quickly for Cross shut down. _What else have you done for Geno's sake? For **our** sake?_

How many times had they snubbed him in return for the protection Cross was trying to offer?

Cross studied them for a second before glancing away. "We won't get anywhere apologizing to each other. He's gonna know I finally broke and told you. And I don't know what's going to happen because of it." 

Reaper tensed slightly. "Would he punish you...?" 

"Maybe. Maybe he'll punish you. Maybe he'll let it slide? I don't know." Cross half shrugged, re-capping his bottle. He looked to Error, frowning, "Are you good to continue...?"

No. No, Error wasn't. 

But he forced himself to be. After everything revealed less than a handful of moments ago, he decided that 'no' wasn't good enough. 

Cross spent more than a week dealing with their bullshit. _Suffering_ because of their bullshit. 

At the very least, Error could pull himself together long enough to get through training. With that in mind, he swallowed the water remaining in the bottle he held and pushed himself onto unsteady legs. "I'm ready." he murmured, crushing the plastic in his hand and tossing it aside for now.

Nightmare wanted to keep playing games? He wanted to screw with his head like he used to before? Fine. He could go right ahead, because Error was ready to be the asshole he himself was back then; back before the damning moment he first shook Nightmare's hand.

Error was ready to be _The Destroyer_ who took _no shit_ from anyone. 

"Let's go."

Ink watched him closely, uncertainly, but Error looked determined. Cross glanced over to Reaper. "Are you?" The god nodded. 

A glance to the artist, "Yeah, I'm ready." 

Cross nodded, moving to all their visuals. "I'll... talk you through how to fight as a team." 

The husbands glanced to each other. None of them really had the need to fight together, or to fight as a team with others, but... "Why would we need to do that...?" Reaper asked hesitantly. 

"..." Cross smiled slightly, "Just... amuse me for a bit...? Because there's certain skills learned when you fight as a team. You learn to anticipate your teammates' movements, and can silently signal each other for coordinated attacks on the enemy. Horror and Killer know each other the best. Error and I were another pair. Reaper, Ink, it would be good for you two to learn to fight alongside each other. Learn in pairs first, and we can expand to more than two." 

Error narrowed his sockets. "Will Nightmare approve of this...?" _Not that he cared, but..._

Cross smiled wider, "Nightmare will approve of those who can fight without getting too injured. He complains of using too much of the healing creams." 

Reaper tilted his head slightly. Smart boy... 

Error looked down. "Are you..." 

"Error, you and I were a good fighting team. Let's teach them how it's done." _If you're willing...?_

Memories flickered before Error's eyes. Adrenaline induced laughter, the rush of performing a perfect attack... A battle that felt more like a dance than war with the ease they stepped around one another...

His soul gave a sudden pang. Longing, want...

Stepping forward, Error reclaimed the place he threw away all those years ago, settling so that he and Cross stood shoulder to shoulder.

Nightmare... he used to have a spot at the asshole's side, but what was once willingness to stand by the king had been replaced by force; by shackles formed through manipulation and abuse. This though... what he had with Cross was different. Had _always_ been different.

They were equals, but Error had never stood at Cross' side... 

With a gesture from Cross, Ink and Reaper slowly began to circle the two. The moment Reaper moved out of their line of sight, Error spun so that his back was pressed to Cross' and his eyes were on the god. 

...His spot next to Cross was behind him; _protecting_ his back while Cross watched and did the same to his.

Error grinned, _Heh, it feels good to be **back.**_

Ink lunged before he could share the joke.

Cross linked an arm with Error's, and the both of them dodged to the side. Ink stumbled, nearly crashing into Reaper. Cross grinned. "Really?" 

"I wanna ask you some things," Ink whirled back to them, trying to read their moves. 

"If you can land a blow on me, you can ask a question." 

"Any of us?" 

The guard shot Error a look. "Not you, asshole. You're supposed to be watching my six." 

Error smirked at him, "I can watch your six and kick your ass." 

Reaper took that opportunity to lunge. 

Without breaking eye-contact, Cross and Error sprung away from each other and kicked Reaper in the ass.

Reaper chirped, hands flying to his bottom. With no ecto formed, the kick landed on his sensitive sacrum and sent a series of conflicted tingles running up and down his spine; pain and pleasure attempting to dominate one another. 

"H-hey!" 

Ink made it in front of him to block a kick from Cross with his forearms. With the contact made, the white and black clad skeleton used Ink as a springboard to flip backwards and land at a distance, the action drawing both their eyes to his form.

Reaper was the first to realize their mistake. Luckily, he was just fast enough to yank Ink to the side so that the blue threads targeting the artist missed him.

"Ooo, are we using our real weapons?" Ink grinned, eagerly summoning his paintbrush. 

Reaper glanced at his artist husband, but summoned his claws. 

"Actually, Ink, you should pick another weapon." 

Ink blinked, frowning a little. He'd missed holding his paintbrush. He missed it _so much..._

Seeing the expression, Cross hesitated. _They... they already know the truth..._ At least, they knew some of the truth. In all honesty, that itself was risky. Too risky to offer more leeway than he already was... _But he looks so damn **sad.**_

Cross... may have had a concealed weakness for sad expressions.

Conflicted, he settled on some middle ground. "Is that the only brush you can summon?"

Ink blinked. "I..." _don't know._ Broomy was his favorite, after all. He owned other brushes, but only ever summoned his favored weapon to his hand because, well, because why wouldn't he? "I can try...?"

Nodding, Cross held a hand out and summoned his usual red sword. Carefully, he adjusted his hold so that the blade was held by two hands before giving a sharp pull; the red energy splitting into two identical, thinner swords he coaxed into decreasing in length. "Try to form something smaller." Flipping the now-sword swords around, he ran the new blades through a few motions to test the weight of them in his hands. Working with energy wasn't always smooth, but they seemed well balanced. "If you can manage it, aim for something... discreet."

Ink's frown deepened. "Discreet...?" _Like... a dagger?_ The size of one, at least.

To boost the other's motivation, Cross threw in something to sweeten the deal, though he really, really shouldn't be offering such things so freely. "If you can summon anything shorter than the swords I'm carrying now, I'll answer a question for free." A pause. Well... "Within reason."

"Within reason?" 

Error winked at him. _You can do it._ Meanwhile, Cross glanced to Reaper. "So, you have a few ideas on hand-to-hand combat, and since we've established I can't die by your touch, you decided your claws would be beneficial? Smart." 

Reaper fidgeted, unused to the praise that made the regret feel worse. 

Cross stepped forward. "It would be smarter if you used the talons at the least expected moment. Form them just before making contact, then let them fade just after."

Tilting his head, the god slowly nodded in understanding and let his talons shape back into the usual blunt phalanges he sported most often. _Least expected moment, huh...?_ Past boredom once led to practice in many skills. Forming his talons was one such skill, though it was something Reaper never would have expected to use. Still...

Curious, Reaper quickly formed his talons. Just as fast, he reverted them back into rounded fingers. Cross didn't seem to react, so he tried it again; sharp then not in less time than it took to blink. 

Still, Cross didn't react. Didn't seem to _notice._

_So, I have speed on my side when it comes to forming them..._ That was good. If Cross wanted him to be unpredictable with the use of his talons, then being able to form them that quickly would go a long ways in helping with that.

Satisfied, the god turned his attention to the artist for now. Ink still held Broomy in his hand, but there was a look of interest in his ever-changing eyes. Distantly, Reaper noticed the lack of his previous hateful colors. 

_What should I ask...?_ There were so many things he could bring up, but... Ink focused on Broomy. With a sad sigh, he let the brush fade from his hand. He wouldn't get to ask _anything_ if he didn't manage to form a smaller brush first.

He thought about his brush, staring down at his hands. He glanced to Cross' blades, narrowing his sockets slightly to his own hands. _A brush smaller than those blades...? I have plenty at home..._

_But... to summon them? Or am I going to have to create them?_

Again, Ink glanced to Cross' blades, frowning more. _Small brush, small brush, small-_

_What if I just... what if I try scaling Broomy down somehow...? Condense it somehow...?_ Ink closed his sockets and tried to focus. He imagined Broomy. Big, bulky, heavy Broomy, and imagined it smaller. 

Broomy flickered to life in his hands, but with concentration, Ink forced it smaller. _Smaller, smaller, **smaller.**_

_It still has the same weight..._ Ink opened his eyes, seeing his Broomy the size of the palm of his hand.

Used to the weight of Broomy as he was, Ink could handle it, but... well, it would make for quite the surprise, wouldn't it?

So, unthinkingly, he reared his arm back and pelted the brush at Error's face.

Error smirked. He reached his hand up to catch the brush. Which he did! 

...but he wasn't prepared for the weight....

...or for the heft behind the toss... 

...so when he backhanded himself, and the brush continued flipping over his head until it landed in the grass behind him, the destroyer figured he was justified in the way he collapsed to the ground and yelled out in pain. 

Ink's sockets widened. "...um.... oops....?" 

"THE FUCK, SQUID!?"

At Ink's sheepish expression, Error's ire only grew. With a series of loud, angry curses, he pushed himself up to his feet and whirled on Ink with a lecture ready to go at the tip of his tongue.

Something trickled from his nasal cavity. Instantly, the destroyer froze. _Am... am I...?_

Ink's expression shifted. _Oh no... Oh..._

Slowly, Error brought a hand to his face. Wincing at the feel of his fingertips brushing the bone right below his nasal cavity, he pulled his hand away and stared at the blood smeared across tri-colored fingers.

_**...Shit.**_ Ink bolted away the moment a blazing glare landed on him.

He danced around Error as his first lunged for him. He found his way behind Cross, hiding with his hands on the guard's shoulders. "Oh I get a question now, don't I?" 

Cross grabbed Ink's wrists, dropping to flip the artist over his shoulders and slam him down on the ground before himself. "Yeah." 

Ink wheezed out a breath, staring up at him, "D....Dream...? is... is he okay...?"

Dodging a surprisingly flexible kick, Cross caught Ink's ankle and held him at what was sure to be an awkward, uncomfortable angle for the artist. "He..." Pausing, Cross took a moment to really think about his answer.

_Golden eyes a dull, pale yellow, sunshine smile dim... An expression of utter heartbreak as Dream trusted Cross with his bracelet, leaving his wrist naked for the first time in weeks..._

Feeling Ink strain against his hold, the second dropped him and put distance between them. Error's face was bruised and bloody, but the drain of marrow seemed to have stopped so he motioned the destroyer over with a wave. "Get back into position. You still have to earn your other questions." As he and his partner began to circle the artist and god, he dropped his voice to a low murmur. "Dream... he's fine. Tired and overworked, but... he's in one piece and good health. He just... misses you." The guardian hadn't said so, but it was painfully obvious.

Ink touched his own face, looking at Error for a moment. _Stars it really hurt... But..._ he looked back to Cross. "You... he's okay...?" 

A soft nod.

Ink nodded and bolted behind the two, swiping his brush up. Eagerly, he swung the brush- 

But nothing happened. 

Ink stared. 

And Cross started laughing. "Was that supposed to do something?"

Color spread across Ink's face; a pretty rainbow hue that slowly drained away until the lighter shades of an embarrassed red was all that remained. _That... that wasn't supposed to happen..._ He meant to fall back on one of his usual tricks; a splatter of color that would solidify as chains. Why...? _Why didn't it work?_

_"Cross!"_ Error shouted, a warning in his voice.

Instinct born through long hours of training made it possible for Cross to teleport away mere seconds before what would have been a nasty swipe from Reaper landed where he previous stood. "Shit," he murmured, all traces of laughter gone as he eyed the gouges cut into the ground. Five deep, ugly lines...

Reaper flicked dirt off of his now blunt phalanges. "Inky, you good?" he asked, head tilted in worry.

Eyes on his brush, the artist slowly nodded. _Is... is it the new size? Me?_ He didn't have time to stop and think about it. Whatever the problem was, he would have to consider it on the go while they fought.

After all, Ink still had quite a few questions left.

"Y...yeah, I'm fine..." he frowned a little at the brush. _C'mon Broomy... we're a team, aren't we...?_ He glanced up, side-stepping as Cross threw a sword in a downward arc where Ink just was. Unconcerned at the dangerous blades in the other's hands, he swiped the brush on the other's skull. 

Nothing. 

Cross yelped, flinching away from him. "What?! What the hell was that?!" 

Ink sent a shit-eating grin at him. _"If you can land a blow on me, you can ask a question."_

"Tch, little shit." 

"Yeah, that's my husband you're talking about," Error elbowed Cross sharply, grinning at the offended huff the other made. 

Cross returned to protecting Error's back, watching Reaper and Ink closely. "Still a little shit."

Reveling in the crisp texture of blackened grass beneath his bare feet, Reaper kept his contact with the ground as he and Ink slowly circled the second duo. Soon enough, a ring of wilted grass and cool dirt surrounded Error and Cross, creating an unintentional arena. 

"He's taller than you." Reaper pointed out, sure that, by now, his feet would need a decent washing. He kept circling, eyes on Ink whenever the artist would dive in for a failed attack to ensure the artist was in no need of help. Whenever Ink did require aid, he was quick to jump in himself; footsteps always marking his path with every step of decay he took. "Doesn't that mean he _isn't_ a little shit?"

A lascivious smile spread across Ink's face. "Oh, hon," he purred, "you and Ru _both_ know there's nothing little about me."

"Except your fucking IQ!" Error shot back, hand hidden behind him to conceal the threads tangled around his fingers. "And ask your question already, damni-"

Without warning, Reaper vanished. 

"Fuck." Error cursed.

Ink grinned brightly, eyes trained on Error and Cross as to not hint at where Reaper was. 

Cross tensed and once again resumed his pose with his shoulders pressed to Error's. He glanced to the floor, then upwards. _It's too warm for his breath to show, unless he was holding it. Where are his footprints...?!_

"C'mon, Reaps!" Error called out. 

Ink's grin widened. "We're using what's at our disposal, aren't we?" 

Softly, Cross murmured, "You three have a lot of dangerous gifts, don't you?" 

Shaking his paintbrush, Ink shrugged. "Maybe." _C'mon, flow...!_ He faintly remembered that feeling whenever he used his abilities. He tried to replicate that feeling and- _ah_. It wasn't easy, but black paint started to collect in the brush again. He swiped forward, and an arc of paint flew towards the others- 

Error and Cross ducked nearly simultaneously.

There was a startled noise from just behind the duo that had them tensing as they whirled around; Cross' blades lashing out while Error sent his strings over the crimson arcs, pass the limited range his partner had. Nothing. 

"The floor..." Cross whispered to Error, eyes darting down before he returned his focus to Ink.

_Ink hit Reaper..._ Error realized, taking note of what Cross himself had seen. Splattered all across the grass behind them was the black of Ink's failed attack. With the illumination of the ever-lasting full moon hanging over their heads, the paint almost seemed to gleam in the light, but that only made Ink's mistake all the more obvious with the way it highlighted the large break in the splatter. _Fuck, he was right behind us and we didn't even know._

But where was he now?

Doing a quick scan of their surroundings, Error came up empty. However much paint ended up on the god was being concealed alongside the deadly skeleton's clothing. "Cross, keep an eye out for any paint on the floor where it shouldn't be.” With any luck, whatever excess paint Reaper could be dripping with might be falling onto the-

Unseen claws cut through the blue threads Error was absentmindedly searching with, bringing forth a startled shout from the destroyer and thus drawing Cross' attention.

Just as the second turned to glance over his shoulder at Error, Reaper reappeared at the blind side Cross unintentionally created for himself and smeared inky-black, paint smeared hands on the back of the skeleton's skull. "That's two questions for us now, right?"

Cross flailed, dropping one of his swords to swipe at the paint. "ACK!" He smirked slightly, "Was that your question?"

Drifting backwards to rejoin Ink, the god watched Cross with a small, troubled smile. "Heh, can't help noticing that _that's_ a question. Didn't remember you getting to ask any of your own." Dropping his gaze down to his messy, paint splattered clothing and dirtied hands, Reaper hummed thoughtfully. 

He disappeared from view again before anyone to could see his smile fall into a worried frown.

"Fair enough." Cross chuckled, giving up on the paint already drying on his skull in favor for snatching his blade up. With a nudge to Error from his elbow, he flipped the sword so that he held it by the flat blade and pressed the hilt into Error's hand._ It's too open for your strings alone to be effective._ Error didn't take his earlier weapon of choice into this two-on-two battle though, so he would have to deal with Cross' construct. "Ask your questions now if you want, you two. Or wait."

"...Do... do you know why Gen is like how he is now...?" Reaper whispered, soft inquiry cutting deeper than any of Cross' swords ever could. _If we know the **exact** reason, maybe we can help..._

Cross' own smile flickered to a frown. "I... can only guess... every time I saw him, he was scared or distant, until he just stopped responding..." 

_White..._ Though Ink remembered it was hidden behind that veil. Ink tightened his grip on the brush. _What did that bastard do...?!_

Ink circled Cross and Error, eyelights flickering slowly as his gaze observed them. He flicked his paintbrush in thought before lunging at his husband. Error brought his sword up and blocked the tiny brush-...?!?!?! He grit his teeth at the impact, grunting as he tried to throw the artist off. "What the fuck...?!" he hissed. 

The artist reached to tap Cross, but the other second swung his sword around to get Ink in the side- 

Blocked by a scythe seemingly from midair.

"Careful there, Criss-Cross." Reaper murmured, reappearing to showcase his bland smile and saddened gaze. "Playing around with knives is dangerous.”

Stiffening at the nickname, stepped back with his sword in hand but wasn't given any time to center himself before Reaper was back in his face; scythe clashing once more with the red of his blade. "Not exactly wielding a knife though, am I?" he shot back, gritting his teeth against the force being applied against him.

Similarly, Error was struggling against Ink, his borrowed blade shaking slightly as it was inched back into his own space. "What the fuck do you eat, Ink? Steroids?! How are you lifting that damn thing?!" Sweat dripped down his brow. 

Smiling widely and applying more pressure, Ink leaned in over their crossed weapons and purred, "Why? Looking to be on the menu, Ruru? It's been a while, but your usual seat on my face is still reser-"

With a mortified screech, the destroyer kicked out and slammed a foot into Ink's pelvis.

Ink cried out, jumping to the side to double over slightly. "O-ow!" 

But as soon as that pressure was gone, Error stumbled a little bit forward, and Cross lost his extra balance, letting Reaper's scythe a little closer to Cross' face. With a near panicked breath, Cross shoved the scythe to one side. 

Just for the god to vanish again. 

Ink wheezed and whimpered, "R-ruuu that's my baby makerrr..." 

Error tensed slightly. _G-Gods, did I actually hurt him...?!_ "I-Ink...?" he stepped forward- 

Ink leapt forward, swinging Error around until his back was pressed to the artist's chest. He restrained Error's arms to his sides with a tight hug, and held Broomy so the brush was tickling the front of Error's neck. 

A blink later and Error grumbled, "Asshole." 

Ink grinned, nuzzling the top of his head. "You're the one that kicked me, hon. I was just asking you an innocent question-" 

"THAT WASN'T INNOCENCE."

Grin stretching wide, the artist carefully forced Error down so that he could readjust them to be sitting; Ink crossed legged on the floor with his first trapped on his lap. Knowing he had to be careful, Ink kept the arm latched around his husband tight and the paintbrush close to his neck. 

_Error's out of the game- the fight,_ Cross assumed, sparing only a few seconds to eye the two before attempting to search out the god. _Where is he...?_

Ink's paint was already dry on the back of his head. Likewise, the impressive stain on the half-dead grass didn't seem wet anymore either, so hoping for the paint on Reaper to rub off on anything was hopeless. _Still no footsteps to go off of either..._ What did that leave Cross with?

"I think..." he slowly drawled, voice as cautious as every step he took during his search for the god. "...that if I managed to land a hit on Reaper, I should get to ask a question of my own."

Eyes firmly on Cross instead of the mass of colors stalking the other second, Ink hummed; interested. "Seems fair." Cross had the disadvantage, after all. 

Nodding, the black and white clad skeleton lashed out with his blade. Nothing. For good measure, he cut a red strip through the air in a full circle. Still nothing. _C'mon, think._ He was finally in Erro- in the trio's good graces again. He... well, he wanted to look cool, if he were honest.

He wanted to prove he was skilled enough to catch a _god._

Faintly, the familiar sound of a blade disrupting the calm wind reached him. _To the left!_ Just in time, he turned and met the scythe he couldn't see with his remaining sword. The pressure against his blade vanished before he could retaliate though. _Think, think... what do I know about him?_

Reaper loved his husbands. If picking favorites was a thing among them, the god's was definitely Geno. _I can't use that against him._ Not without being cruel.

He didn't seem to like tight clothing. _Not relevant to this battle._

He had distinctive bird traits. _His wings aren't out, so that's useless._ Although a small part of him was glad for that. The speed those feather appendages gave the god... stars, it was frightening.

_What else is there? What can I use?_ He wore black often, he kept his eyes lightless, like Killer- _Killer, huh...?_

For a moment, Cross thought back to the god's interactions with the dripping eyed Sans. He teased him a lot, didn't he? Reaper made a lot of comments with the purpose of getting on the other's nerves. A lot of jokes.

_At his very core, he **is** still a Sans..._ And, from what he observed, Reaper seemed to have a similar sense of humor to Ink. _Stars, am I really...? _

Yeah, he was.

"So," he began, voice directed at the seemly empty space all around him, "is it true what they say? You know... the whole 'la petite mort' thing?" Grinning wickedly, he purred, "Is _Death_ **little**, down _there?_ Or is that term incorrect?"

To his right, the hidden god choked on a laugh.

Cross whirled, blade swinging at the laugh. 

Hitting nothing. 

A soft murmur came to life next to him, "Were you wanting to find out, little mortal?" 

Cross' eyes widened at the closeness of the voice, and Ink _giggled._ Just barely hearing the shifting of robes, Cross ducked and lunged for Reaper. 

Nothing. 

He closed his eyes. _Hearing him was the most reliable, wasn't it? So all I have to do is listen for his next attack..._

"Hey Cross!" Ink immediately broke his concentration. "You know that whole thing is about the _climax-"_

"Shut up, idiot!" Error hissed, blushing brightly. 

Ink nuzzled him, grinning. "You're telling me you forgot, Ruru?"

Okay, so that plan was out. 

Ink may have had Error captured, but that didn't mean the artist was completely out of the game too. Cross just made the assumption he was. _Rookie mistake, damnit._ One that the destroyer being held hostage would have had him running laps for years ago.

But if Ink planned to continue playing interference for the god, then what else did Cross have on his side? _I really thought I'd be able to get him with the joke alone. He needed a backup-_ Oh.

An old lesson came to mind that had Cross flushing lavender. _Don't think about the details, don't think about the details..._ aaaand he was thinking about it. Fuck.

Well, it was worth a shot.

On the sidelines, Ink dropped his grin next to Error's skull and murmured with interest, "Oh, that's..." For the most part, Cross' emotions were still concealed, but whatever had him flustered left his barrier with cracks. _What has someone who blushes purple feeling so red?_ And for it to not be anger...

"I don't know..." Cross murmured, voice a low, sensual drawl. As he walked a slow, cautious circle, magic began spreading down his revealed arms. Noticeably, the loose material of his clothing grew tighter as muscular ecto took it's place. "You may be a god, but are you sure you can handle all _this?"_ As if there were any questions of what exactly it was he meant, Cross caught the hem of his shirt and dragged it up just enough to showcase a well defined abdomen.

_Those damn lessons about seduction and distraction better pay off, dammit._

A low, musical note of appreciation sounded to his right. "I'm sure I can _more_ than handle that- oof!" 

_Success!_

Reaper's form flickered into view with him blocking Cross' sword with his scythe again. The god grinned, "Clever." 

"Well trained." 

Error squirmed, wishing he could hide his face now. 

"Tell me, how many shirts do you rip with ecto like that?" Reaper purred. 

A faraway look entered Cross' gaze. "Too many..." 

"Hnng-?!" 

Cross twisted himself and dislodged the scythe from Reaper's hands before slicing a shallow cut into the god's shoulder. "I get to ask a question now, too." 

Ink flinched. He was too caught up in Cross being good. Or at least, not being as bad as he could've been, that he forgot about the whole injury reflection thing. He glanced to his own shoulder, glad the wound wasn't severe enough to leave a mark on his own bones but... _stars it stung..._

Catching the slight movement Ink made in his pain, Cross frowned but otherwise didn't allow himself to react. _The less I know, the better,_ he decided, though that didn't stop the uneasiness brewing within him. 

Letting his blades meld away into nothingness, he nodded to the god standing before him in acknowledgment before tilting his head in Ink and Error's direction. "What we've done is good enough for today. Ink, release Error so the two of you can come here. We're going to do a minor cool down work. We can ask our questions while we do so.* 

"Do I get a question?" Error asked, careful of the wound he wasn't sure Ink had as he stood. He would have to check on his idiot once they were back home. "I should get a question." he decided before Cross could answer.

His fellow second sighed, amusement concealed. "Sure, why not? Ink, ask your question first."

Once Error was off his lap, Ink pushed himself to his feet with a thoughtful expression. _What do I...?_ As he idly looked around, thinking, his gaze landed on Cross. More specifically; the scar that cut across the white and black clad skeleton's eye. It was something he wondered about often before his anger had centered on Cross.

Quietly, a little unsure, he asked his question. "What happened to your eye, Cross? It's scarred pretty badly."

He reached up and touched the bottom bit of his scar before glancing away, frowning. He got into showing the husbands the cool-down exercises before feeling brave enough to answer honestly, "He- um... Geno, he wasn't allowed to open the door of the room he was," _trapped in, kept in_, "staying in. There was a..." _don't look at the god, don't look at the god...!_ Cross sighed. "Boss played a prank on him, which had him fighting to open that door. I was trying to stop him, and he lashed out. Boss figured I should keep it as a reward for following his orders, and likely as fuel for the three of your fires. So he refused aid past band-aids." 

Ink searched his expression, frowning. _He didn't seem to be lying... just.... was he ashamed...?___

_ _Cross cleared his chest and glanced over to Error. "What's your question, Error?"_ _

_ _Surprisingly, the destroyer was quiet for quite some time. Lost in thought, it seemed, judging by the faraway look in his eyes and the slight frown he wore. All three knew better than to interrupt him from mulling over whatever questions he may considering, so they let them be._ _

_ _With every passing second of silence, Cross' nerves grew. _Please, please don't ask me why I didn't stop it, Error.__ _

_ _When Error spoke, the question wasn't what any of them expected. "Why did you stay, Cross? When I left, why didn't you?"_ _

_ _ _It took the other nightmares a week's absence from Error to realize that the destroyer wasn't coming back._ _ _

_ _ _It took Cross a smile trying too hard to hide it's sadness and a rare hug for that same realization to sink in._ _ _

_ _ _It took him **seconds** to understand that Error was leaving. Nightmare. The castle._ _ _

_ _ _ **Him.** _ _ _

_ _Falling back on his usual expressionless mask, Cross slid his eyes away from Error's. It felt... weak. Telling. Unable to handle the feeling, he turned back to meet the other second's gaze again. "...You know how it is, Teach." He didn't notice the old nickname slipping through. "Us nightmares? We only end up here because we have nowhere else to go. You... you had a place to go to when you left, Error." _Don't look at the artist._ "You had someone to hide you from Nightmare. I... didn't." There was more to it than that, but that was the easiest reason to explain. "Heh, guess it's my turn for a question now..."_ _

_ _The artist and god glanced between the two, though Ink's gaze seemed to linger more on Cross for the moment. _ _

_ __You could've come with me. You could've asked to come with me... You... I could have offered... I **should have** offered...._ Error dropped his gaze. _I didn't know... we didn't know this would happen...!__ _

_ _ _Or if Cross leaving would've changed anything..._ _ _

_ _Cross glanced to each of them, hesitating before asking, "How is-" _Oh... but should he ask about Geno...? It... it might seem like something Nightmare would want him to ask. Shouldn't he ask something else...?__ _

_ _Error fiddled with the woven strings in his pocket. The ones he'd given to Dream, with the addition of the lavender color. He glanced back to Cross._ _

_ _Throughout the last few years, Cross had improved. This wasn't a new revelation, but it was something Error constantly found himself noting whenever the other second was near. His strength, his skills... even his attitude all saw change during Error's absence, though he was glad to realize the Cross he knew was still there. Older and burdened, but still alive._ _

_ __Why was that so hard to remember...?_ Geno's condition invoked a lot more in Error than he was ready to share with his husbands, but... _I **know** him._ Back then, it sometimes felt like he knew Cross better than Error knew himself. _Fuck, why did I think he'd ever...?__ _

_ _Error winced slightly, a spark of pain forming behind his eyes. Really? He over-thought himself into a headache? _Fuck...__ _

_ _Deciding to think about everything later, he curled his hand around the bracelet in his pocket and looked to Cross, the ache in his head pushed to the back of his priority list for later. "Ask your question, Cross. It... it's okay..." _Dream trusts you. **I** trust you..._ Even if he forgot that trust in his previous anger._ _

_ _Cross smiled slightly. "How... how is Geno...?"_ _

_ _The question seemed to startle Ink and Reaper, but Error smirked slightly; his assumption on what Cross wanted to ask proved correct. "He's-"_ _

_ _"Blank," Ink cut in, gaze distant. "He... he's- I mean, I _think_ he's afraid. Lost in that fear, maybe... but wherever he is in his head, it's far from all of us."_ _

_ _Reaper spoke up next, voice quiet, "He doesn't respond to us. To _anything,_ really. And he... he's still sick..."_ _

_ _"Morning sickness," Error murmured, echoed by Cross who recalled the incident with Geno's previous sickness. Catching his eye, the destroyer sighed, "I was going to request a meeting with Nightmare later. Geno... we need more supplies for him. Unrestricted access to the laundry room, more towels, plastic bags to protect his clothing.... Half the time, we're not there to help him when he needs us, Cross. The least we can do is make sure he's as clean as possible while we're gone."_ _

_ __He needs a caretaker..._ But there was nothing that could be done about that. Nightmare wouldn't be kind enough to permit one of the husbands to stay behind with Geno at all times and the other nightmares... _Endure would be the best option, but he can't even say Geno's name without it sounding like a curse.__ _

_ _Sighing, Cross nodded. "I'll inform Nightmare about your request for an audience. For now, head back to your quarters. Training will continue tomorrow morning."_ _

_ _Reaper pouted slightly. _Don't I get a question...?__ _

_ __There'd be plenty of times for that later._ _ _

_ _ _Hopefully._ _ _

_ _Ink spoke up, frowning, "What time?"_ _

_ _Cross looked up at the sky. "....a half an hour after your alarm goes off." He glanced to each of the husbands. "After training, we'll have to go talk to Nightmare for any missions he's wanting to give you. For today, go back, shower, enjoy your evening. You’re to then meet us in the throne room tomorrow." _ _

_ _Error thought about offering the bracelet back to Cross. Maybe the guard could give it back to Dream, somehow. Still.... this was his only physical reminder of the boyfriend they had no choice but to leave...._ _

_ _With a silent apology to Dream, Error remove his hand from his pocket to tangle his empty fingers with Ink's. Keeping the bracelet was perhaps a little selfish, but he promised himself that he would make it up to Dream… one day._ _

_ _Stars, but who even knew how many more weeks would pass before ‘one day’ finally came? Error didn’t want to think about it. "Reaps, pick your feet off the ground. It'll save us the trouble of cleaning up one less pair of footprin-" A startled yelp ruined the rest of his sentence. "Ink, put me down!"_ _

_ _Smiling down at the destroyer he now had cradled in his arms, Ink shook his head. "Nope! You're officially still my hostage until we get back. Besides," he grinned, "now there's _two_ less set of dirty footprints to worry about."_ _

_ _"Killer is on cleaning duty today, I think," Cross informed the artist._ _

_ _Error was returned to the ground just as Reaper lowered himself back down._ _

_ _Cross hid his grin by turning around and starting to walk. "There's some pointers to work on. The three of you have good chemistry with each other but no experience fighting with each other. Reaper, you've got your... invisibility? Your wings, claws, and levitation. Of course you also have your scythe, and eventually you'll gain more knowledge of other weapons. _ _

_ _"Ink, it seems like you've got the most experience with weapons and fighting, but not necessarily with coordination. I've seen you and the other Stars coordinate, but your favorite tactic is to split and fight one-on-one. I've seen you take us all on at once with... mostly successful results, but... it'd be better if you learn to truly fight alongside another. _ _

_ _"And Error. You already have the know-how, it's just a matter of remembering, and practicing with new weapons and new partners." _ _

_ _The husbands shared glances, feeling somewhat exposed. _Is... this what he's going to tell Nightmare?__ _

_ _“Overall, the three of you did well today.” They were at the door to their ‘home’ far sooner than any of them would have preferred. Cross glanced back to them, seeming like he wanted to say something. Ultimately, he nodded shortly to them. “See you tomorrow.” And he left. _ _

_ _Reaper nearly flung the door open. _Thank the stars… he could finally spend some more time with Geno....!_ _ _

_ _“After your shower, Reaps,” Error warned with a smile. _ _

_ _“Yes mom,” the god pouted at him before racing up the stairs. _ _

_ _Ink leaned closer to Error, murmuring, “How much do you wanna bet he’s gonna do the _bare minimum_ in hygiene?” _ _

_ _“There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going to do exactly that, but you’re next, squid.” _ _

_ _The artist grinned more, “You mean, _we_ are?” _ _

_ _The blush on Error’s face was enough to boost Ink’s mood, if for the moment._ _


	15. (Eye)light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a balance, though it's hard to see at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings**: Heavily implied abuse/torture/trauma, subtly implied rape.

Cheeks warm, Error pushed at Ink’s shoulder before making his escape from the artist, though the attempt ended in failure when Ink simply followed after his first. 

“You’re such an idiot,” the destroyer grumbled, tugging at the hem of his shirt with a grimace. _Fuck, maybe I should have hopped in with Reaper instead. I smell..._ “How the hell do we sweat? No, _why_ the fuck do we sweat? We’re fucking skeletons!”

Good mood lingering, Ink grinned at his husband’s back with a gleam in his heating symbols. _How long has it been…?_ Given their situation, there wasn’t really a time or place for sex, but… “Heh, we’re not fucking skeletons quite yet, Ruru,” he purred.

“The hell does- tch!” Blush deepening, Error shook his head and added a little speed to his movements as he made his way upstairs. He would have to put up with feeling disgusting for just a little longer, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some clothes ready for himself and Ink. _Reaps too, probably. I doubt he stopped for anything to dress in._

Pointedly keeping his eyes forward despite the gaze he could feel on his ass, the destroyer pushed open their current bedroom door and made his way inside, intent on ignoring Ink’s antics the best he could. 

“We’re back, Glitch-” he froze.

Where was his brother?

Ink, having not been paying too much attention, smacked into Error’s back. He grabbed the other’s shoulders to steady the both of them. “Ru?” The artist peered over Error’s shoulder, frowning a little. “Wait-” 

The destroyer took a small step inside, as if afraid to make too much noise. Another step brought him closer to the bed. Another, and he could see the bed was made. And surprisingly clean with sharp, folded edges of the sheets and comforter. _Why is it clean…?!_

Now starting to panic a little, Error tore the comforter off. Obviously, Geno wasn’t there, but that was the last place any of them remembered him being. _Where where where…?!_

“I’ll go check the other rooms,” Ink murmured just before disappearing out the room. 

_Go check…? Why is he- can Ink not feel him…?!_

_F-fuck, is he dead…?!_

_No… no, breathe you idiot,_ Error scolded himself. That was a little hard, what with his vision going blurry and the room starting to tilt, and the glitches starting to swarm around his bones. 

“E-Error…!” Ink called out. Then a shriek, _“Error!”_

Dropping the bedding clutched between his hands, Error spun on his heel and darted out of the room. _That… that voice…!_ There was more than just panic behind Ink’s call of his name. There was _terror._

It didn’t take long to find his first, what with the simple structure of the house. A downstairs, an upstairs, a hall… 

That Ink sat sprawled in, crumpled over like a puppet with broken strings. 

_“Ink!”_ he cried, hitting the ground hard as he dropped down beside the trembling empath. A few doors down, there was a sharp yet muffled screech of metal against metal. _The shower curtain,_ he absently noted, focus primarily on the artist now wrapped up in his arms. “Ink? _Inky?_ Fuck, what’s wrong?”

“He… h-he’s-”

The bathroom door slammed open. In a flash, Reaper was at their side, dripping with water he didn’t stop to dry and sloppily 'dressed' in a towel. From the bathroom, all three could hear the shower still running.

“Ink?” Reaper trilled, panic in his eyes.

Swallowing thickly, the artist in question tore his gaze away from the door before them to glance between the destroyer and god. “G-Geno, he’s… I barely o-opened the door,” Ink whispered, “I… it’s only open a _crack,_ but… b-but his emotions-!”

Reaper glanced at the door in question, confused. Then he stilled as the realization of which room they loitered out of hit. “This… this is the _save screen_ room…!”

“I…it’s all white… wh-white… th…the anti-void-” 

“You’re not in the anti-void, Inky,” Error whispered desperately. 

“It’s pitch black in there, too,” Reaper shakily reached for the door. He hesitated when Ink flinched and covered his eyes. “Ink…” the god murmured slowly. “What do you mean it’s the anti-void…?” 

The artist was trembling too much. His jaw rattled against his skull, and his bones couldn’t stay still long enough to form a coherent thought. “Geno... Geno... Geno… the anti-void… the- _Geno…!”_

Error whipped his head up to Reaper. “Reaps-!” 

_He’s scared, terrified, **petrified.**_ But none of them could hear their husband moving. Just a soft, shuddering breathing. 

Reaper gently pushed the door open and peered inside, gripping the towel around his hips. “Gen…?” 

A wide, white eyelight stared back. The other socket was covered by glitches, still, but not much else could be made of the smallest husband. Reaper fumbled against the wall, whispering small curses until he found the smallest switch and flipped it. The light made both skeletons flinch, though Geno exhaled a sharp whimper and clung to the blankets covering him up to his shoulders. 

_He’s… he’s awake…!_

The joy that tried to surface was completely ignored in favor of the concern and rising fear. _Why hasn’t he said anything…? Why **isn’t** he saying anything…?_ “Geno…?” Reaper asked cautiously, earning a flinch and averted gaze. 

Out in the hall, Error watched the two, enrapt. Of the three of them, Geno should’ve been leaping into Reaper’s arms. He _would_ have too. There wasn’t a doubt in the destroyer’s mind. If everything was okay. If it all was- 

Something tore in Error’s mind and SOUL, but he refused to pay attention to it yet. He denied there was something so wrong that his brother wouldn’t be jumping into Reaper’s arms right now. 

Ink whimpered, clenching his eyes shut. “The white…!” he whispered. “I-it’s so fucking bright, Ru…!” 

Still clinging to hope, Error tightened his arms around Ink and pressed his teeth to Ink’s skull, murmuring quiet reassurances to his fearful first. His eyes never once trailed away from the scene playing out before him. _It’s okay, Geno,_ he thought, not wanting to interrupt and startle the glitch with his voice. _It’s just Reaps._

“Geno....?” Reaper cooed, voice soft and musical; composed of precious little songbird notes picked just for his husband’s name. “Honey, can… can you say something? _Anything,_ sweetheart…?” _Stars, he looks so… so small._ “Please, Gen?”

Teeth chattering slightly, Geno hesitantly opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. “...”

Concern rising, Reaper shuffled in place, crooning a worried, “Gen,” before stepping forward, intent on comforting his littlest husband.

Only, Geno flinched back with a frightened whimpered that Ink echoed somewhere behind Reaper. 

“D… d-don’t-!” the glitch began, voice strained and trailing off into a sob he was quick to hide behind a hand. “I… I d-didn’t mean- I’m s-sorry…!” His other hand came up to join the first, both pressed over his mouth as if muffling the sound of his voice could seal away the impact of his words. “I-I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry…!”

Support gone, Geno’s blanket slipped, revealing… a shirt.

And yet, the glitch acted as though he wore less, dropping his hands to scramble for the blanket so he could yank it up higher.

_He didn’t mean… what…? What is he sorry for…?_ More and more questions. More and more mounting fears. 

Reaper stopped, torn between scooping Geno into his arms to comfort him, and keeping the distance the glitch so clearly needed. It was… immensely difficult, but Reaper stayed put and murmured, “Okay… okay Gen…” 

Those shaking hands pulled the blanket up further to cover his mouth. 

Helpless, Reaper looked over his shoulders to Ink’s bleached lights and Error’s tense, comforting embrace. 

_Help him…!_ Ink wasn’t sure if that voice was his own plea to his husbands, or an internal demand to push himself past Geno’s white to try to help. 

He voted for the second one, though desperately clung to Error, and what few darkened colors were there that weren’t white. _Anything but white…_ “G-Geno…” the artist whispered hoarsely. 

That one-eyed gaze flashed to Ink, then immediately back to Reaper. Error… wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted them to crowd his brother, especially if that slowly shredding piece of him was correct, but he missed him too. It had been so long since Gen was awake that… “Hey, G-Glitchface,” Error greeted. 

Again, Geno’s eye flicked to Error, just long enough to perceive him, before returning to Reaper. _The closest one to him._ Or was it simply because Reaper was half naked with only a towel? Stars, Error wasn’t entirely sure. _Please let me be wrong… please…!_

“Gen…” Reaper whispered, trying once again to get through to his first and hating just how futile it all seemed. “I… I’m not going to hurt you.” Having to promise something that should have gone unsaid hurt. _I would **never** hurt you, Geno…_ but his little husband didn’t know that, did he? Not anymore, at least. “If… if you’re worried it’s not me, then… don’t be, Gen. It’s your Reaps, okay? Your Reapsy-poo…?”

The familiar nickname brought tears to Geno’s eyes, but his renewed silence didn’t break, nor did he lose his tense posture. “...”

“G...Ge…” Ink choked out, slowly rising with Error’s help so that they could step into the room side by side. As they did so, the white within draped over Ink’s shoulders like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. _Too much… there’s too much white…!_

Inside of Geno, echoing in Ink, all around the room… he hated it, but even the shadowy hue of said hate wasn’t enough to taint the white that swallowed his hatred whole. _I… can’t see anything else…_ “Ge… no…” even his voice produced wisps of smoke-like white. “Don’t… don’t be afraid…”

“**None** of us are going to hurt you,” Error said, correcting Reaper’s earlier statement slightly. 

Confidence grown by the support of his other husbands, Reaper chanced another step forward, though he was sure to broadcast his slow movements so that Geno wouldn’t startle. “Can… can I touch you…?”

Geno’s socket widened, the light within flickering with terror. “I… I d-don’t want to…!” Panic renewed, he tried to scoot further away but there was nowhere else to go with the wall already pressed against his back. “P-please, I… I don’t want to…! I…” The slightest hint of confusion reached Ink when Geno glanced between the three of them. It was gone before he could latch onto it. “I don’t want t-to… please…” he sobbed.

“Ge-”

“P-please don’t m-make me do i-it, Ni… N-nighty…!”

_Ice._

That’s what their bones were made of. 

“Geno…” Error cleared his throat. He tried again. And a third time, but no words would come now. 

Reaper took over, voice nearly a whisper. “He isn’t here right now Gen.” 

_Right…?_

But Geno stayed shrunk in on himself, sobbing, stumbling over those heartbreaking words. _What the fuck did you do…?_ That rage, that _hate_ Ink couldn’t focus on became just slightly stronger. Unfortunately, still it was overrun by white, though that darkened red lingered just enough to be almost annoying. 

“Ge,” Ink whispered, “Ge, y-you’re with us…!” 

“I… I’m… n-not safe…!” he cried. “I’m not…! I...m… I…” the faintest of color flickered through his eyelight, before the light itself dulled to that sightess glaze from when he wasn’t aware anymore. That fearful, restrained fight complex within the glitch faded quickly. And rather abruptly. 

“No!” Reaper shrieked, stepping forward. 

No response. 

The god hesitantly rested a hand on Geno’s shoulder. 

No response. 

Arms around him and desperate whispers and pleas of his name. 

No response. 

Ink and Error joined him, tears streaming down their faces. 

No response. 

And even when they made their discovery at last. The worst possible surprise they wouldn’t wish on anyone…? A pain that would scar the lot of them for as long as a lifetime lasted? 

No response. 

Undetected amongst the white and the tears, a smiling darkness made it’s escape.


	16. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's... always a choice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**: Talk of rape. Death. Abuse threatened.

Pulling themselves together took time. Huddled together in that little room full of darkness and suffering, the trio clung to their dead-eyed glitch and wept, then raged, and wept some more. Out of anger, horror, guilt… 

“How… h-how th...the f-fuck could… c-could w-we leave h...h-him?” Error stuttered once they finally got themselves out of that fucking room. “We… w-we were ha… having f-fucking _fun_ while h-he… w-while…”

Ink clenched his sockets shut, trying not to complete the sentence in his head. It was futile though, and a crackling rasp escaped him, “While Geno was raped.”

Error flinched back, just as pained by the truth as Ink was. Had Reaper joined them in that moment, the god surely would have had a similar reaction, but he wasn’t there. After their terrible discovery, it was agreed upon that Geno… could do with a rinse. Reaper was taking care of that now, just a few doors down but distant enough that neither Ink nor Error could hear his cries.

The artist could feel it though, even if he didn’t actively try. Reaper’s emotions… _They’re so strong…_ and it was clear by the deepness of the god’s blue that there were tears born from the sorrow only Ink could see. _Reapsy…_

“W-we fucked u-up,” Error choked out, distressed. 

Logically, Ink knew that wasn’t quite true. They had no way of knowing that something like this would take place during their training. If they even had an inkling of the abuse Geno would face… if they knew he would be _awake_ in their absence…? Stars, they would have fought to stay by his side. As much fighting as they could afford in this hell, anyways. Foolishly, however, they were left unaware of what fate Geno faced. It still wasn’t their fault, but… 

It felt like it.

Still, Ink had no desire to push anymore guilt onto Error. “You… you couldn’t have known, Ru. None of us could…” except Ink. As an empath, shouldn’t he had felt Geno’s terror? That… that thick, overwhelming rush of w-white? _**I** should have known, Ru. Stars, why didn’t I know…? Why didn’t I keep you safe, Ge?_ Again, no less.

Similar in the worst of ways to his husband, Error too was blaming himself. _You… you fucking **idiot.** You **know** that N-night- that **he** always goes back for more. You fucking **knew** that!_ So… so…

_As if he swallowed a weight, dread dropped into Error’s stomach when a slick tendril curled around his waist, pulling him close to Nightmare when he meant to follow the rest of the gang out the door._

_“Error, you and I have some… matters left to discuss,” Nightmare purred, a smile on his face as he waved Cross away when the rookie hesitated in the doorway. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal away a bit more of your time.”_

_“Do you… want me to stay as well, boss?” Cross questioned, hovering even with the dismissal he received._

_Unseen, another tendril snaked beneath Error’s coat, then the hem of his shirt. With heated, sexual intent, it coiled around his spine and stroked at sore yet sensitive ribs. “No. Take your leave, Cross.”_

It’s okay, _Error promised with his eyes._

_He was forced down on Nightmare’s desk the second the door closed, a tendril tight around his mouth and skull to muffle pleasure that sounded a lot more like pain._

...Why the hell did Error think Nightmare wouldn’t pull the same shit on his brother? Why… why the fuck was he so fucking _stupid?!_ “I… I…” Angry tears burned in his eyes. He couldn’t protect himself, his brother, or even the rest of his fucking family. On top of all that, he couldn’t even fucking _speak_ like a normal person. “I…!”

Ink slid a hand close. He wasn’t touching Error, but the intent of comfort was there. Ink was there in the only way the destroyer could handle. “Error…”

“W-why… why…?” Tears spilled down his cheeks, spurred on by an age old pain and a burning regret that clawed at every scar he had. _Why didn’t we keep him safe?! Why the fuck weren’t we here to keep him safe?!_

Most of all, he wanted to ask the question he knew weighed on all their minds: How many times did something like this take place without their knowledge?

Before Ink could attempt piecing together Error’s new line of thought, Reaper entered with a solemn gaze outlined by blue magic that stained the bone around his sockets. In his arms, Geno was being cradled, bundled in the largest towel the god could find with his head against Reaper’s shoulder. _As if he were merely sleeping…_

Ink swallowed, then mustered up a smile that landed closer to broken than anything else. “H-hey Reaps…”

“...Hi,” Reaper murmured, carefully setting Geno down next to Ink so he could rifle through their closet for something comfortable. And covering. “He… he’s all washed up now. I… had to…” the god pushed on even as his voice broke. “There’s bruising in places and… a-and marks in others, so I had to be careful when washing him.”

Ink accepted one of his own shirts. While Reaper took care of deciding who had the best bottoms for the glitch to borrow, he carefully rolled down Geno’s towel, whispering his apologies as he did so and forcing a wounded noise down. “Oh, honey…”

Breathing heavily, Error shut his eyes and turned away so that he wouldn’t have to see whatever evidence of his brother’s abuse remained. _I’m sorry… fuck, I’m so, so sorry…!_

They were all sorry, but what good did that do? Sorry didn’t change shit.

Sorry didn’t save Geno.

\------

After Reaper's return, the trio and their slumbering fourth had little motivation to do much else than crawl into bed and sleep, though Error’s phobia forced him to the very edge of the bed where a series of thread embraced him more than his husbands could manage. Still, he was close, and that was enough to bring… not a lot of comfort, but some. Better they all be together than apart, after all…

And yet, the unfortunate truth loomed over their heads: When the morning came, they would need to leave Geno behind to face an uncertain future.

Morning arrived all too soon.

When Cross' signature knock sounded, Geno was sandwiched between Ink and Reaper with Error pressed against the artist’s back with an arm stretched out to embrace both his brother and godly husband; phobia soothed in his rest. "Wake up, guys..." Ink murmured, already feeling sickened by anxious dread. "We need to go."

Error held them closer momentarily before gently sliding off the bed and making his way downstairs, towards the door, silent. Unhappy.

Cross was on the other side, dressed in similar mission clothes to what the husbands should have been dressed in by now. He nodded to Error, with his hands behind his back. "Are you ready...?"

Slowly, Error shook his head. "Just… give us a few moments..." but he hesitated. _Geno's in there. Just yesterday, we were yelling at Cross…_

Error froze, nauseated that his doubt was back, but… concerned. Fearful of a manipulation he may have missed due to fond memories and a desire to forgive. “Cross…?”

“Yeah, teach?”

“Wh… why did… why did you take us outside for training yesterday?” 

Head tilted, Cross watched him for a long, silent moment. Error’s heart pounded. Then, “I… wanted to make things right, if I could. And I had that message for you. Being outside seemed… like a good idea? And a… treat. I figured you might be going stir crazy, so…” Cross shrugged, a little unsure of himself in the face of Error’s scrutiny. “Honestly, I expected my request to be shot down, but Nightmare agreed. He… seemed to like the idea, actually.” Something he was still discomforted by.

Why would a suggestion like that please Nigh-

Error stepped forward with a desperate look in his eyes. “D-did… did you _know?_ Did h-he say anything to you, Cross? I… fuck!” He wanted to believe in Cross. He wanted it so badly it hurt. “Did you know wh… w-what he was… fuck, did you know? _Did you?”_

“D-did I know what, Error?” Cross questioned, stepping back with Error’s next move forward. “Teach, I-”

“Did y-you know he was going to rape Geno?!”

And just like that, Cross froze. _Wh… what…?_ That wasn’t- he- “Nightmare said he had plans,” he whispered, the sound of his own voice registering only distantly. He felt lightyears away from the situation. “He… he didn’t say what…” but Cross didn’t ask, did he? 

Twitching fingers curled tightly in the material of his shirt. “F-fucking _swear it._ Swear on your life that… fuck, just promise me that you didn’t know! That you-”

_Didn’t trick Error for Nightmare’s aid._ “I promise I didn’t know, Teach. I…” felt sick. “I swear on my life, on… o-on my necklace, chocolate—whatever I can say to convince you, _I didn’t kno-”_ An alarm on Cross’ phone went off in his pocket. A warning. Shoving both hands in his pockets to hide their own shaking, Cross stared at Error in remorse. “We’re going to be late,” he whispered, choked. Regretful. “F-fuck, Error, if he- we can’t be late. _We can’t give him more excuses to-_ please, get dressed. We can talk later.”

Shakily, Error nodded and released Cross. Feeling both relieved and empty, he turned his back to the fellow second and returned to the mockery of a home.

Inside, Reaper and Ink were dressed and in the process of getting Geno comfortable upstairs, though their movements were slow. Neither artist or god, nor Error himself felt comfortable leaving the defenseless glitch _anywhere_ on his own, but the bed would be more comfortable than the sofa and… fuck, if anything could reach Geno, then they wanted it to be some comfort. Something pleasant.

“Is he… g-good…?” Error whispered, quickly tearing off his clothes and dressing properly for the day. After a moment of hesitation, he took a jacket from the closet and slipped it over Geno’s shirt. Another layer. 

His husbands nodded, unenthused. 

“Then… let’s go.”

Turning their backs on Geno was hard, but they forced themselves to do so and made their way out of the room, then their temporary home. As Reaper opened the door, Ink murmured to Error, “Are you… okay, Ru? You… you have a headache.” It was small, but painful enough for Ink to notice.

Error tensed slightly, and Ink blinked a few times. "I... I'm assuming...?" he chuckled weakly.

Cross, subdued by new knowledge, glanced at them but didn't say anything.

_Ink, you idiot…_ Error thought tiredly. Cross being on their side was... complicated, he knew. The other second was giving them as much leeway as he could, but there were limitations to the kindness Cross was able to offer. Having kept Nightmare's little act going was a prime example of one such limitation. _At the end of the day, he's still **Nightmare's** second._ Just like Error technically was once again. And oh how the thought made him sick...

Still, Cross’ help was a pleasant thing, if not risky. But if he got caught...

Error caught Cross' eye on his way out the door. The same worries brewing within him could be seen on in his fellow second's now haunted eyes. _If even a single lie gets caught…_ Things wouldn't end well.

For any of them.

"Single file, no touching. Error, you take the rear." Cross commanded, donning his cold, uncaring mask yet again. _Be smart, you guys. Be safe._ Regretfully, he glanced at the door to their quarters. Especially you, Geno...

The four of them made it to the throne room and stood in a line, waiting for Nightmare to show his face. _He's going to be late…_ Reaper thought. Usually, that annoyed him. Today? It terrified him. If Nightmare wasn’t in their sights, then he could be anywhere. With anyone.

_He's always fucking late…_ Cross and Error unknowingly thought together, both just as concerned over it as Reaper, but angry. Experience left them with the hunch that Nightmare’s tardiness was purposeful. 

He wanted them to worry over Geno. 

Minutes passed where the willing nightmares made their appearances and silently stood nearby.

_Silently...?_ Ink risked a glance to them.

Surprisingly, they looked tense. Although Horror hid it the best of the three, Ink could spot the tension in the line of his shoulders and hidden behind his reasoning for picking at the hole in his head; an action Ink had never seen Horror take, but correctly assumed to be a nervous habit. _Huh, didn't think he had any of those…_

To his left, Killer's smile was a fraction too wide. When he tossed a butterfly knife into the air, he nearly fumbled the catch and lost a thumb. _Sloppy, unskilled…_ Both things the dark, dripping eyed Sans proved he wasn't when it came to handling his blades.

Brushing off the anger the observation filled him with, Ink discreetly went to inspect the remaining nightmare. _Endure…_ He was the worst at hiding his nerves. Ink could see the worry plain as day on his expression, though it was clear that the Papyrus _was_ attempting to keep it hidden. Just failing. Miserably.

_They don't know what the mission is,_ Ink realized. This wasn't uncommon, but... _but they know it's going to be something big._ Ink didn't like that. After yesterday, being out of the know was something he decided he didn’t like. Secrecy… it was dangerous in the hands of enemies. _What’s the mission…?_

Even longer minutes passed, until even Cross was starting to fidget, before Nightmare opened his doors and walked in with a bright smile. "Hello, nightmares," he chuckled. He made his way over to the throne and sunk into it, swinging a leg over one side. He stretched and groaned, making a show of making himself comfortable before he peered out at them with his head on a tentacle. Smiling wider, he spoke again, "You all appear to be appropriately dressed. Good."

The willing nightmares murmured their hellos, followed a little softer by the husbands who bowed their heads to hide their anger. _He’s pretending like nothing happened?!_ The nerve-

"Oh? And you _all_ remembered to use your manners, did you? Very nice." Ink shuddered at the anticipation within their boss. Whatever he was planning, he was excited for it.

Cross took a small step forward, uncertain of how to address him today, both due to Nightmare’s pickiness and his own desire to drop all formality and respect. _Why? Why did you do it, Nightmare? What do you get out of tormenting someone who can’t fight back? Who wasn’t even fucking away to try?_ "What are your orders today, boss?"

"Tch, always straight to business, Cross."

"You have a schedule to keep, do you not milord?"

_Was Geno fit into that schedule? Was what you did to him behind everyone’s backs planned?_

Nightmare seemed pleased with that. "I do indeed... well, alright then. I have missions for all of you, but... mostly for our little artist."

At once, every pair of eyes in the room turned to Ink. Through sheer force of will alone and the overwhelming urge to stick it to Nightmare, he resisted the desire to fidget. "Don't I feel special?" Ink murmured, glaring at the floor.

The king of the castle chuckled. "Oh, you certainly should feel that way, protector. See, after the god's last mission, I got... inspired, you could say." That didn't bode well for anyone.

"H-heh, as an artist, I guess that makes me kind of proud..." Ink said when the silence following Nightmare's words was paired with a look of expectation from the king. _What do you have planned? Why... why are you stalling by letting me talk...?_ Was he trying to thin their patience? Wait them out until either he or his husbands broke and shouted all their anger at Nightmare for his deplorable deeds? _I won’t give you the satisfaction of our anger. I won’t let you toy with us anymore than you already have!_

"Now, now," Nightmare chuckled, "No need to lie for my sake, Ink. I know what pride looks like on your face, after all. The expression you're sporting now..." His expression darkened, "Well, it's nothing like the one you wore the day you swiped one of my nightmares away from right under my nose."

_W-what-_

No longer smiling, the king straightened on his throne, relaxed posture long gone. "Do you remember, _protector?_ The candidate I had tempted to join my side as a nightmare that you swooped in and stole away? Oh, I'm sure you do. After all..." An old rage burned in Nightmare's gaze. "He's your friend now, isn't he? Why, you and dear, sweet Genocide once stopped by for a visit.”

The mention of the glitch’s name had Ink tensing. “You-”

Nightmare bulldozed right over his interruption, smiling. “Hell, Error joined you for your _last_ one." Chuckling, the lord of despair sighed, not of displeasure, but longing. "Now that I think about it, I do so want that darling doll you gave his brother. Maybe I'll have one of you fetch it for me during your mission to Underfell to see our dear, _betrayer_ of a friend, Red."

"Red didn't betray you-"

"He did when he allowed you to sway him away from me."

Ink fell silent. _What do you want...? What do you want...?!_

Nightmare smirked. "I think you know what I want, artist. I want that doll. And I want Red. Your mission is to go collect them for me."

Everyone tensed slightly. _Is... is that it...? What about the rest of us...?_

Nightmare glanced to Cross and Error. "As my seconds, I want the both of you to accompany him."

Off to the side, Killer frowned. He waited, but when Nightmare offered up no other orders, his frown deepened and he stepped forward with a complaining, "Wait, wait, _wait!"_

The king of the castle humored him with a raised brow. "What is it this time, Killer? I'm so very eager to hear whatever it is that displeases you today."

Embarrassed by the sarcasm, the dripping eyed nightmare flushed a bit. His embarrassment didn't force him into silence, however. "What about me and Horror? Hell, what about Endure and the god? Usually, we hit worlds as a group! C'mon, it'd be good practice for the newbies."

"Endure I'll consider. The god though? Well, I’m afraid he already had his fun in another world. Besides," Nightmare looked to Reaper with a smile that set off alarm bells in his head. "I have another mission in mind for my favorite little bird."

"...And me and Horror?" Killer pressed, desperate for something more amusing than castle duties.

A smirk tilted Nightmare's neutral grin. "You know what? What the hell? We'll make it a family outing. Killer, Horror? You'll be attending the mission as well now, though understand that I want no more than half the citizens dead. Dealing with Red is to be left to the _protector._ Unless he gives you trouble, leave his dear brother left alive. I'd like some rumors out of this trip, I think. Endure..." Nightmare paused.

Frowning at the king's continued silence, the Papyrus stepped up. "I can handle it."

_You don't know what you're signing up for,_ Cross thought, a flare of panic shooting through him. So far, Endure had been kept from their most violent duties. _Intentionally._

But Nightmare was smiling. His gaze seemed brighter as he eyed Endure. "You're angry, aren't you? No, not angry. You're infuriated that other worlds live when yours saw destruction. _Right?"_

"Yes..." Endure murmured, gaze locked with Nightmare's.

The king smiled wider. "You want to make others hurt? You want them to experience pain similar to your own?"

_"Yes."_

"Very well. Then you'll attend as well, Endure. I'm sure there's much you can learn during this trip."

Cross closed his eyes against the Papyrus' straightening spine and his desire to please shone through in his eyes.

The husbands all tensed slightly more. "And Reaper?" Error dared to ask. "What plan do you have for him?" _What’s this little special mission for him?_

"That's for us, second." Nightmare waved his hand carelessly next to himself and a portal to Underfell opened up. "Killer, since you were so eager to join this, why don't you be the one to take Endure under your supervision? Horror, keep the tally. Now, all of you, go. Don't come back without my things."

Ink balled hands into fists. _Red isn't a thing. Red isn't **yours**...!_ Error and Ink looked to Reaper, silently hoping his... _mission_ wasn't... bad. Too quickly, Error turned and shooed Ink towards the portal.

Nightmare's bright, excited gaze instantly jumped to Reaper's eyes the moment the portal snapped shut. "Now then, little bird. Why don't you come here and sing me a song?" he purred.

———

Killer and his assigned protégé as well as Horror were long gone by the time Error and Ink made it through the portal. Where they had gone so quickly, neither new, but the distinct footprints in the snow seemed to be heading towards the town...

On cue, the distant sound of conflict began. Fell monsters trying to get the jump on unfamiliar faces, or the nightmares rushing into action...? Really, it could have been either one.

"Ink..." Error's voice drew the artist's attention. When Ink looked over, wavering blue symbols met a sympathetic gaze. "Come on, Inky. Let's…” he trailed off, uncertain, before trying for a shaky smile. “If we hurry this up, then we get to back hom- to the castle sooner. To Ge, Inky.” And hopefully, before Killer got carried away. "We should start off by trying to find that doll first."

Ink heard everything Error mercifully left unsaid. The doll would be at _Red's_ house... _And if we trip any of their alarms, Red will come running…_

"This isn't right...! I... I shouldn't be doing this...! **We** shouldn't be doing this...!" If anything, Ink should be back at the castle keeping Geno safe from Nightmare, and Reaper too. That’s what he meant to do, after all; protect. Not threaten his friends. “Error, this… this is _wrong!”_

Cross looked to Ink, compassion hidden behind cold eyes and an empty expression "You don't have a choice..." _Yesterday, he had no reason for what he did. Don’t give him one today._

Frustration raged within the artist, but... _the faster they get done, the faster they can get back and save Reaper from whatever Nightmare has planned for him._ Ink looked to Error, feeling similar sentiments within his first husband.

Ink looked down, summoning his paintbrush to his hands. He swiped open a portal at their feet and jumped in, easily landing within Red's house. Usually, Fell was out on sentry or guard duty right now, right...? He was probably at the CORE with the Undyne or Alphys of this world, talking security or watching the live feed of what was going on.

And with Red's shortcuts, he would be here much faster than his younger, arguably scarier brother.

_After convincing him to stay good, this is what's happens...?_ Ink had to shut his eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. Especially when he heard Error and Cross step through the portal in after him. _I... I can't even promise Red anything good will come of him joining the nightmares…_ Hell, Nightmare would probably destroy Underfell after having Red in his tendrils. Knowing the king, he would force the poor boy to watch.

Ink laughed weakly, though nothing about anything taking place was funny. _Poor boy…?_ Briefly, he wondered where the thought came from. Despite the years he had on the other skeleton, Red wasn’t exactly a child. Ink never saw him as one, either. _I wonder how old he is with all the resets taken into account…_

Even with his spotty memory, Ink knew he was much, much older.

_What am I thinking?_ None of this mattered right now.

He had a mission.

Error drifted by Ink, gently resting a hand on the artist's shoulder. "I'll go find the doll..." he murmured with regret.

Ink shuddered, every footstep from Error sounding ominous in his ears. When the door to Fell's bedroom opened, he shut his eyes in remorse for whatever was to come. _Red loves his brother. No matter how often they bicker, that never changes…_ It was why Ink felt so resigned. They would be asking—demanding—that Red leave Fell behind. 

Unbeknownst to all, the moment Error stepped across a specific point, a censor set up by Red that only he himself knew of went off; alerting the Sans to an intruder within his home. 

Within seconds, he stood in the living room with a snarl on his face.

Ink… wasn’t ready. He turned to face his friend anyways. _It's either drag Red into the hell I got him out of, or watch Nightmare torture Geno some more…_ or worse.

Really, it wasn't a choice.

But Ink was still going to hate himself for the effort. 

Red frowned at him, aggressive stance not letting up. "Ink? Tha hell, man? Everyone's been sayin' you and the others were missing. Why're you here? What's-?" his gaze flickered to Cross before shooting back to Ink. A weapon was in his hand almost instantly. "I don't like the look on yer face pal."

"H-hi, Red..." how much could he get away with talking about...? Even if Cross was playing a dangerously fine line... _I shouldn't burden him with more decisions on what to and what not to report to Nightmare…_

Keeping the artist and the guard of the nightmares in his sights, Red backed up to the stairs and glanced up them towards his brother's room. "HEY! Whoever's up there, ya better get yer ass down here now!"

"R-Red, please, I don't want to fight, I..."

"Then why're ya here with that _gang member,_ Ink?" Red shot a suspicious glare to the both of them. So far, Cross had stayed back and... watched. Hadn't drawn a weapon like Red had.

Error, despite being called out, didn't seem to be planning to make his way downstairs. In fact, he didn't even make a sound to acknowledge Red. It didn't take Ink long to realize why.

Even if their relationship was public, even if Error was there for Ink's previous visit... he was still infamous as the _destroyer_. As a nightmare. His six year absence hadn't been enough to change that. _If Error comes down…_

Red would have no reason to think Ink an ally.

_Not that he looks like he thinks I'm one now…_ Tightening his hold on his iconic brush, Ink tried to steady himself. It didn't work. "Red, please, I... I really can't answer that. Can you..." Ink couldn't ask Red to trust him. Not with the orders weighing his shoulders to drag the other skeleton back to the hell that was Nightmare's castle. "Red, I need you to come with me." Tears of regret stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "And I... I can't take no for an answer."

Again, Red shot his gaze between Ink's and Cross' before glaring harder at Ink. "What happened to you...?" he muttered. "You... you have _kids_, don't you? Why aren't ya there for them?! Why're ya here with a stars-damned _nightmare,_ Ink?!" Red formed a second bone attack in his other hand, tensing more. "Cuz it was _my_ understandin' that ya didn't want me with _them_, so why're _you_ with 'em?"

Ink stepped forward, raising his hands after settling Broomy on his back again. _I don't want to fight, please... please don't make me fight you...!_ After everything, he wasn’t sure he could take much more torment at the moment. "Red..." Ink's voice dropped to a whisper. "I have reasons why I'm there, okay? I swear."

"Care ta enlighten me, _protector?_ If that's what ya even are anymore?"

_Stars, just stab me, it'll hurt less…_ Ink clenched his jaw, but kept Red's gaze. "I have people I need to protect-"

"You should be helpin' me protect **my** assholes outside!"

Misery colored Ink's symbols blue. Red's world was shit. He and Fell were trying to change that, but the inevitable resets always ruined whatever progress they managed. Still, Red refused to stop trying. His dark, dust stained Underground meant the world to his brother, so it was practically Red's _universe._ For Ink to being in his home with an enemy instead of out there...

_Betrayal._ It wasn't in Red's gaze, but Ink could see the color all around the shorter skeleton.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward. When he spoke, Ink's voice had a noticeable strain pulling at his words. "I _can't_, Red. I..."

"I'm going to check upstairs," Cross announced, voice cold. Every word he spoke to Ink didn't come off as simple conversation. It came out as a command. "Either convince the target to come with us, or force him, _artist_. Unless you don't care about that little husband of yours?" Shrugging, Cross turned his back to the two and began making his way upstairs. "If that's the case, then go ahead and fail your mission. Nightmare might even let you go home with his leverage dead."

His gaze shot between the two, seeing Ink flinch at Cross' words, but torn on which one to go after first. Until he threw one of his attacks at Cross. "HEY, ASSHOLE!"

Cross side-stepped and shot him a dark glare over his shoulder. "You sure you want to do that?" Cross turned more fully towards Red.

Red advanced on him with a dark expression, "I ain't got time ta keep up with fake friendships, shithead. The fuck has that squirt done to ya?"

Cross' gaze flicked to Ink. "Make your choice." And he turned to continue upstairs.

"I ain't done talkin' ta ya-!" Red roared out.

Ink grabbed his arm, freezing at the underlying _fear_ beneath the rage and protectiveness.

Red whirled on him. "Ink!"

"R-Red..." Ink shivered against his emotions, but held his ground. And his grip.

The skeleton in question snarled and broke out of his grip. "Don't... ya don't get to fuckin' say my name like that. Like... like yer all sad and shit. Yer standin' up for that fucker? _Protectin'_ him?" The angry hue of magic Red was named for burned brightly in his socket.

"Red, I... I don't have _choice,"_ Ink whispered, pleading, "Please just... come with us, Red. Please." _I can't promise to keep you safe. I can't even give you an idea of what Nightmare will do to you, but…_ but Ink couldn't fail. "If... if you don't come, Geno-"

Red's growl was animalistic. With his burning magic and sharp, sneering teeth, he looked every bit the well trained dog he often pretended to be. "Are ya seriously tryin' to _guilt_ me, ya bastard?!"

_Yes._ It was low. Really, unforgivably low, but Ink was just about ready to do whatever he needed to in order to get through this without a fight. "I have orders, Red. And a very, very good reason not to fail. I..." A series of sharp, jagged bones appeared all around Red, ready to be fired his way. "I'll ask one more time." Outside, the sound of conflict was getting closer. Ink was running out of time. "Come with us, Red. Willingly." _Please…_

"Buddy, I dunno what kinda shit they slipped in yer drink, but I ain't buyin' it."

Still, Ink didn't bring his Broomy into his hands. Instead, his eyes searched Red's. _I... really can't convince him, can I? But I don't want to force him, either. Who knows what Nightmare will do if he knows Red fought? Shit, I…!_ Didn’t have enough options. Convince, or force...

...Oh, but… there was… there was another option... another path he could take to keep Red from suffering Nightmare’s abuse...

"And what about my _brother,_ Ink?! Ya force me to Nightmare's whorehouse and, what? What happens to him? He gets killed in front'a me? He's abandoned here wondering where the hell I ran off ta? He _forgets_ about me?" Red stepped forward threateningly, "I ain't leaving my brother."

Barely a whisper was heard from the artist, "I can't let Geno get hurt anymore, but I don't want to fight you, Red...."

"We ain't friends if ya force me there, Ink." But he hesitated. "You.. ya know I ain't goin' down without a fight. Ya know yer gonna have to force me to go."

"....I know..."

"THEN DRAW YER DAMNED WEAPON!" Red swung at Ink with his jagged bone attack.

Easily, Ink danced around the attack. When more followed, he ducked and weaved through the rush of bones in an elegant, unconcerned manner. His movements were light; easy.

It only angered Red more.

"Yer not a fuckin' ballerina, Ink! Stop playin' these damn games and come at me already!" He snarled, darting after the artist with the attack he held. "Ya stepped into my world. Yer in _my_ house. If ya need me to come with ya, then this ain't gonna cut it. _I'M NOT LEAVIN' PAPS UNLESS BOTH MY LEGS ARE BROKEN, FUCKER!"_

It sounded suicidal. Then again, wouldn't leaving with Ink be considered the same?

Eyes sad, Ink caught Red's attack in his hand. It burned, but the searing pain barely took out a fraction of his health. _One hit from Red isn't enough to stop me._

Had Geno's life not been on the line, Ink would have regretted that a lot more than already did.

"He's pregnant, Red." The low blow did it's job and with a sharp tug, Ink tore the attack he held out of Red's surprise-loosened grasp. "Please, don't give Nightmare an excuse take two lives today…” _or to hurt Geno anymore than he already has._

Stumbling back with a glistening brow, Red shook his head wildly. _A... a baby? The shorty is going to have a fucking baby **there**?_ Children were- Fuck, even the worst fell monster wouldn't fuck with a child. You waited until someone was out of stripes before going after them. Red...

Papyrus _liked_ Geno. His brother... fuck, making friends had never been easy for him, even before this world went from shit to complete hell. But his bro... he got along with Ink's shorty. If Paps learned he was pregnant... _He'd be happy. Actually fucking happy._ And now Ink was telling him that both his brother's _friend_ and that friend's _kid’s_ lives were on _Red's_ shoulders.

It didn't sit well with him. Responsibility always made Red nauseous. _Paps would do it. If he were me, he'd go._ No matter how hard he pretended otherwise, his brother had morals.

Red's own were always skewed.

"If I go with ya, then _one_ life is still gonna be lost, Ink." He mumbled. His magic flared brighter. "I'm sorry 'bout the squirt and the kid, but... I ain't leavin' my brother just so I can go and die."

An attack shot up from the ground, and Ink stepped forward enough to miss it.

Mostly.

It ended up slicing sideways across his spine. He yelped, more from surprise than pain, though a large gash resulted across several of the back of his ribs and across his spine.

Hearing the cry, Error emerged from upstairs. "INK?!"

Both Ink and Red whipped their gazes upstairs, seeing how Red made the connection, but also seeing the _rage_ in Error's eyes when he saw the growing drips of black behind Ink.

"Ru, _don't-!"_

Too quickly, strings were pulled taut and wrapped around Red's SOUL. Livid, Error snarled, "So, you'd put your family over the lives of others, huh? Guess we have that in common."

The strings squeezed slightly, and Red cried out. "Yeah, asshole," he panted, "Yer gonna do what you can to protect your family. _So will I."_

Red summoned more bone attacks, slicing through the strings that held him hostage. The Sans of Underfell lunged at the Destroyer, more and more attacks forming around him.

"E-Error-!"

_There's not enough space!_ Error took a step back, readying for the blow-

_Paint._

Error stared with widened sockets at Red's own look of surprise and pain. Red glanced over his shoulder to Ink just seconds before he collapsed into dust.

And Ink hit the floor.

For a long, still moment, everything was quiet. Ink, Error... even Cross when he emerged from upstairs with the doll of Error's brother slung over his shoulder was silent.

And then, the door opened.

Just as Fell entered the room, Ink began to _scream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who wrote Red's death scene? lol


	17. PJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we interrupt your usual broadcast with some bittersweetness.

Dream stared down at his phone where a cute little notification flashed mutely. He remembered a long time ago, Ink stole his phone specifically for this purpose. 

_"Paperjam's Birthday!"_ flashed with glitter around an image of PJ when he was a baby. 

_Oh Ink... I didn't realize you would miss your own child's birthday..._ Dream's shoulders hunched a little. _Do you know...? Do you even know you're going to miss his birthday....? Stars... I can't even imagine what this feels like..._

Though, he would learn it from PJ's side. It was still too risky to try and burst into the castle to free the husbands, but wouldn't that be one hell of a birthday gift...? 

_Cruel. It's all so cruel..._ He sighed and shut the notification off. Spright already secretly made a cake for the little artist. One that he could share with Gothy, though the survivor made a second one _just in case._

Hopefully, Goth would be on his best behavior for the day. Given his usual temperament, Dream didn't have too many fears of an outburst, but even a well behaved child was still just _a child._ Goth was as prone to fits as any four year was. _With all that's been going on though..._

"D-dunkle...?" Speak of the tiny devil and he shall appear.

Pocketing his phone, Dream turned to the doorway with a gentle smile in place. "Yeah, honey? Did you need help with something, little sparrow?"

"Uh-huh! I... I need to get Jammy's present! It's..." Little wings quivering, Goth curled his shoulders inward and gripped his scarf, comforted by the familiar color he associated with his mother. "D-daddy hid it so PJ wouldn't see, but it's... it's super high, dunkle. I can't reach..."

_Hood drawn low, a mockery of a mask strapped over his mouth..._ Dream pushed the memory of Reaper's image on Blue's screen to the back of his head for now. "You know where the hiding place is?" Goth nodded rapidly. "Okay then, if you lead me to it, then I'll take it down for you so that you can give it to your brother. Sound good?"

In place of an answer, Goth toddled over and raised his arms to be lifted and held. With a few easy moves, Dream had the little guy on his hip and was being directed into what he knew was the bedroom Goth's parents shared. It's... musty in here.

"Stinky..." Goth mumbled, voice quiet as he stared at the bed. Sheets wrinkled, a slipper sticking out from under the bed, a book resting on the sheets with a paged marked, and one of Reaper's robes draped across a pillow...

_It looks like Reaper and Geno only just crawled out of bed..._ "Gothy, the present?"

Wordlessly, the four year old pointed at the closet. "Daddy put it _really_ high... M'wrapped it in dragon paper and Mama put the picture I made in a mail-thingy..."

When Dream opened the closet, more of that smell settled upon them, and when he moved the present from it's hiding spot, clumps of dust drifted onto the floor by his feet. He blew the dust off the top of the wrapping paper and gently handed it to the child. Both of them shared a look, though Goth dropped his gaze to the present, refusing to look anywhere else. 

_Poor little guy..._ Dream held him closer, making sure neither he nor the present would fall. They silently left the room, with Dream gingerly closing the door behind themselves. _He's losing hope that they'll come back... Stars, how long has it been...?_ Dream mentally shook the thought aside. _That's not something to worry about now, is it...?_ "Do you wanna give this to PJ first thing in the morning or do you wanna wait for later tonight?" 

"..." Goth sniffed and hugged the present tighter. 

_"Daddy hid it so PJ wouldn't see... Mama put the picture I made in a mail-thingy..."_

_Don't give him false hope, Dream, don't do it, don't-_ "Gothy," Dream breathed. The child looked to him with an unfortunately familiar tear-filled expression. "They'll come back, okay?" 

"...but.... but it's PJ's birthday.... they didn't miss it _last_ year.... o-or mine, Dunkle...."

Unintentionally, Dream's hold tightened around Goth, as if holding him closer could steal away all of the child's sorrow. _If I could take your pain into my own heart, I would._ Better him than Goth, or Paperjam.

"Honey..."

"Mama was gonna bake a cake," Goth continued. "It... i-it was gonna _really_ big and tasty, and... a-and I was gonna get to lick the spoon cause daddy always steals it so I can. Dunkle Error was gonna make s-string thingies to hang from the ceiling, and dunkle Ink was gonna make a sign! _And_ hats! They... t-they were gonna do lots of things, dunkle. They _promised!"_

Paperjam was downstairs being entertained by his uncles. Not wanting to upset the birthday boy, Dream stepped into the room he claimed as his own and stole a few more moments of the day away for Goth. "Don't cry, Gothy," he murmured, sitting with him on his lap and gently rocking. "Please, please don't cry, sweetheart."

"H-how come they're not coming, dunkle?" Goth questioned, rubbing at tearful sockets.

Dream wasn't sure how to answer this. Ideally? _They're just gonna surprise him, don't worry! They'll be home in time for the cake, sweetie!_ Or maybe: _Uncle Spright and Uncle Respite and I are going to take you to a secret birthday party and they're gonna be there!_

Realistically...? 

"...they really want to be here-" 

"Why a-aren't they...?!" Goth looked up at him. "They should be! Why, dunkle? Where are they...?? C-can we go grab th-them...? Please? PJ would be happy too!"

Blurry memories of peaceful times spent with a brother who would call out to him kindly eroded; sullied by centuries of unforgiveable deeds and the shining tears of a child who yearned for nothing more than the return of his parents. _Nightmare..._

Chest aching, Dream gently pulled PJ's gift from Goth's grasp and set it aside. "Come here, sweetheart," he whispered, voice thickening with tears as he pulled Goth impossibly close. "Your family loves you, Goth. More than anything in this world, they love you and your brother."

"Then why a-aren't they here?!" Goth demanded, tiny hands tight around Dream's outermost layer and wings flaring in anger. "How come t-they aren't here? It's... it's a special day! They s-should be here!" Voice breaking, the little skeleton buried his face in Dream's neck. "I... I want them b-back...! I want my dunkles, and my daddy, and I... I w-want my mommy!"

All Dream could do was curl around the distress child and whisper empty comfort. _Is this what it feels like...?_ he wondered, rocking Goth and stroking his wings as pleas for his family's return turned to hiccuping sobs that worsened the ache in his chest. _This pain... is this what it feels like to finally understand that there is no saving you...?_

Hidden from the younger's sight, tears like starlight fell from Dream's eyes.

_If it is, then I hope you're happy Nightmare..._

"M-mommy!" Goth wailed, "Mommy! Da... daddy!"

_I've finally given up on you._

———

Downstairs, Paperjam squirmed on his seat as he waited for his brother and dunkle to appear. "Uncle Spright, are you _sure_ I can't eat my birthday pancakes until Gothy comes down?"

"Ya, broski! Ya know ya bro likes da patterns ya make!" Spright peered back into the fridge. "Ya wantin' some pineapple for breakfast?" 

PJ looked over, momentarily distracted. _But juice for breakfast? And pancakes?_ Well, how could he say no? Grinning a little, the little artist nodded enthusiastically. "For Gothy too?" 

"Sure thing, birthday boy!" 

Almost instantly that smile was gone, and in it's place, a confused frown. "N-no, uncle Spri-" 

"Morning!" Dream announced with a wave. Though it had taken a while to get himself and Gothy under control, they dropped down the stairs with smiles along each of their faces. 

"Jammy!" Goth chirped. 

Though Spright hadn't seen PJ's smile fall, he definitely saw it come back upon seeing his brother. "Gothy! I waited! Look! Uncle Spright brought out the syrup, the sprinkles, and the juice! He said you could have some too!"

Goth came to an abrupt stop halfway to the table, sockets wide in awe and cheeks rounded by youth flushed a cheerful lavender in amazement. "Me... me too...?" he whispered, excited beyond belief. 

"Yes!"

"But... but it's not m'birthday!"

Chuckling, Spright set two glasses down on the table, both filled with pineapple juice and swirling with vivid streaks of blue and greens. "Yeah, but it's a super duper rad day and Jammy wanted ta share his super special birthday treats with ya, Gothy!"

"U-uncle, no-"

Trilling sharply in joy, Goth shot over and wrapped his arms around Paperjam's waist with a beaming smile. "Thank you, Jammy!" he crooned, wings fluttering with excitement.

Paperjam smiled and squeezed Goth back. "Hurry! Let's dig in!" 

Dream glanced around, peering curiously at Spright. "Is Res-?" 

"Ya, he got today off. He's just getting ready upstairs." 

Goth turned pleading eyes to Spright. "Can we eat now though?" 

"Sure thing, Gothster!" 

The kids shared bright grins and immediately grabbed for the sugary toppings. Together, they helped the other decorate their breakfasts and, with a shared high-five, they dug in. 

Spright added several of the toppings onto his own pancakes, including a sampling from the assortment of fruits and topped it with whipped cream from the can. 

Slightly nauseated by the drowned pancakes, Dream put only peanut butter and syrup on his own before delicately taking a sample. There wasn't much talk between the kids. Or the adults, for that matter. And soon, Respite was stepping down the stairs, dressed in far more casual clothes than the guardian ever remembered he owned. The kids, on the other hand, merely glanced up, waved, and dove back into their treats.

_Stars, they're going to make themselves sick..._ The question was whether that would occur before the terrifying amount of sugar they were consuming kicked into their system, or after. "Slow down, you two. Your pancakes aren't going anywhere."

Face smeared with syrup and sprinkles, Paperjam grinned. "They can't go anywhere if they're in my tummy! And look, dunkle!" Tipping his plate to show Dream what turned out to be slightly wonky dragon shaped pancakes, PJ pointed to the wings, then the legs. They were missing. "They can't run 'cause I cut off their retreat!"

Dream nodded slowly, unnerved. "That's... smart, honey."

"P-Papa taught me!" Paperjam exclaimed, smile proud but weakening around the edges. "He... he taught me a lot of things, y'know? And when he gets back, papa is gonna finish showing me how to make a dragon out of a _whole bunch_ of colors! A really soft one!"

"A really soft one? Like a plushie or like with fur?" 

"Both!" Because why not? Seeming determined to have a good day, in spite of his parents and dunkles not being there, PJ turned back to his pancakes and took more bites. 

Respite settled himself down on Goth's other side. "Oh you did not want to add cherries for eyes today, Goth?" 

The little bird shook his head, chewing on a particularly _terrifying_ gummy eyeball. For some reason, the kid decided his dragon pancakes should have six eyes. Though once Dream was thinking about it, it made sense. _Six for how old PJ is now._

_Ugh, but why did it have to be gummy **eyeballs**...?_

Swallowing, Goth messily wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stabbed his fork through another. At the sight of red, jelly-like liquid seeping from the holes made by the fork, he ginned. "I like the sour part, uncle Ressy!" As proof, he brought the treat closer and sucked out the rest of the sourness.

Quietly, Dream pushed his half eaten meal away. _I... don't think the pancakes are sitting well..._

"Gothy, the sour part is supposed to be eaten with the gummies! It makes them yummier!"

"Nu-uh! It taste better if you eat the sour part first!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

Scowling, Paperjam pulled a long, thin paintbrush from his jacket and used it to tap Goth's head. "There! I changed your mind! Now you hafta agree with me 'cause it's magic _and_ 'cause I'm the birthday princess!"

"Princess?" Spright and Dream asked together. Respite paused his own meal to look over. 

"No!" Goth demanded. "The sour part first! Wait!" he fumbled in his coat and scarf. Not finding what he was looking for, he sulked and said, "Your magic worked, big sis," and he chomped on the whole gummy. 

Smiling brightly, PJ returned to his- her? own meal. 

Spright blinked. Dream stared uncertainly between the two. Respite took a sip of water and broke the silence, "Paperjam," he murmured. 

The artist glanced over, a star in one of her eyes. "Uncle Ressy?" 

"Are you feeling like a boy or like a girl? Or are you feeling different from that?" 

Both eyes now sparkling, PJ shouted, "Girl!" 

_What...?_ Dream's mind reeled slightly. 

Smile as patient as ever, the younger god of death asked, "Would you like us to refer to you as she today?" 

"Yeah!" PJ stabbed her dragon and thought about it. "But sometimes I feel like a boy. But not right now!" 

"Ah!" Spright snapped his fingers once, forming a finger gun. "Dats cool, sis!" 

Now, the little artist was blushing, and looking between the two excitedly. She stared up at Dream. 

Who was still trying to understand what was going on. Well, not really. PJ being genderfluid somehow made a lot of sense to the guardian, but... _Stars, did Ink and Error know...?_ Trying to force those thoughts aside, Dream smiled too, "And you're sure your princess magic worked on Goth?" 

"It did! He said so! Right Gothy?" 

Goth, pouting at the so-called magic working, chewed on the sweet part of one of the eyeballs and nodded.

And... that was that, apparently. 

Pleased at her abilities, Paperjam smiled brightly and returned to making a mess of her little face with the monstrosity that was her dragon pancakes. _At... least she's happy...?_

Then again, there weren't many reasons for the little skeleton to be unhappy, aside from the obvious one, of course. It was her birthday, she won an argument with her brother, and there was sugar to be had for breakfast. What more could a little girl want?

_Little girl..._ Dream felt sick, though not because of Paperjam's newly discovered preferences. "PJ? Honey, can I... ask you a question?"

Pausing with her cup of juice in her hands, Paperjam blinked, then nodded. "Okay!"

"Have you... _always_ felt this way? Felt like a girl sometimes, and a boy others, I mean. Did..." he hesitated, not wanting to upset her on her birthday. "...Did your parents know, sweetheart?" _Was I hurting your feelings by mistake?_

Sullenly, Paperjam shook her head. "I didn't know before.... b-before Mama and Papa went away..."

"You... didn't?"

Again, PJ shook her head. "Papa said that the difference between a boy and girl was that a boy has a penis!" Respite choked on his pancakes. He wasn't the only one. "Girls don't have penises, dunkle! But I don't have a penis _or_ a... a..." her brows furrowed "...a va-gin-a! Cause I'm a skeleton! Everyone calls me a boy though, but it felt funny today, and yesterday, and lots of times before! I didn't like it, so I decided the funny feeling meant that my vagina was stuck, and that I'm a girl!"

The adults shared a look, admittedly a little lost. "And... when you feel like a boy...?"

"My penis is stuck, so that's why it feels funny if Gothy calls me sister instead!"

Dream couldn't help a smile grace his face. "Okay," he nodded. "You'll tell us if it feels weird right? Us referring to you as she?" 

PJ looked at them all and nodded, but Gothy frowned at her. "I thought- I thought the flower on your shirt was 'cause you were my sister today! Last week you had a... a..." Goth scrunched his face up, trying to remember. "A sword on your shirt because you were my brother!" 

Again, the adults shared looks. _Has PJ been trying to figure this out for a while...? Why hadn't we noticed...??_

Paperjam beamed, proud of her little brother for remembering the pictures she decided on. "I was just tellin' dunkle about the funny feeling! If I feel it, then I pick a pretty thingy to go with it!"

"Oooooh..." Goth nodded, fine with this logic. "Okay, sissy!"

Money couldn't buy happiness, but a particular present would at least soothe the guilt felt by the adults. _No matter how stressful it's been, we should have noticed this._ If it was obvious enough for a child, then it should have been doubly so for them… right…? "PJ, sweetie?"

The birthday girl in question blinked up at Dream, chewing. "Hm?"

Smiling, Dream reached over the table and rested a hand on her head. "Since it's your birthday, would you like to go to the store after breakfast? We could get you a pretty dress to wear!"

Quickly swallowing her mouthful, Paperjam gasped, "A new dragon shirt!"

"Dat too," Spright piped up, grinning. "But lil dudettes should have cute lil dresses to wear on their b-day, yeah?"

Papjerjam frowned, "I dun like dresses though... I want a dragon shirt!"

Goth raised his hand, "Can I get a dress? A black one, like the ones daddy wears?"

The thought of Reaper and Goth twinning in black dresses stretched the smile on Respite's face. "I think that's a good idea." 

PJ looked over to Goth. "I wanna pick the dress for you!" 

Goth, now bouncing in his seat, grinned back, "They should have dragon dresses for you! Super cool Princess Jammy!" he cheered. "And even though Imma boy, I wanna wear a dress with Jammy!" 

The almost inaudible click of a camera brought Dream's attention back to Spright. _That's a good idea..._ It was on the other skeleton's phone, no doubt being uploaded to a file he created to be printed out at a later date. 

"We can go as soon as ya two are done wit ya breakfasts, alrighty?" Spright said. Gasping, both children eagerly dug back into their foods, though they spoke with mouths full to each other about the possibility of new clothes and, gasp, maybe more art supplies and books? 

Well, who among them was going to deny the kids what they wanted today...?

Smiling, Dream leaned back and pushed himself away from the table. "You two finish up your food, okay? I'm going to put a bag together. After shopping, we can stop by the park and maybe even have a small picnic for lunch."

"Birthday picnic!" 

Dream smiled at PJ's excitement, "Yup! Res, Spright? Do you want to join us?"

"Are ya kiddin? I ain't missin a single second of a _princess'_ birthday!" Spright exclaimed, sending his niece an awed expression followed by a wink. "It's a honor ta be invited!"

Respite smiled, bowing his head respectfully to Paperjam when she turned to him. "I, too, would be honored to join you on your birthday, Princess." To Dream, he said, "Would you like me to prepare some sandwiches?"

"I can package up some goodies and sides!"

"Thanks you two," Dream said, nodding in approval. "Bo- kids, come upstairs after you're done eating so I can help you clean your hands and faces." After getting them to agree, he took his leave and made his way upstairs, into his room. 

"It's a little cold for dresses... maybe we could go somewhere warm?" A nice, warm AU pumped so full of positivity his brother wouldn't dare near it... "Yeah, that'd be nice for a picnic."

Pushing open his closet, he pushed some hangers aside and rummaged through his things. He had a few bags, but he would need one large enough to fit food for all of them, and maybe some activities. It would probably sit in his inventory for most of the time, but putting one large container in than multiple would save time. _I know I have one somewhere..._

Not finding it, he sighed and shut the closet doors.

A satchel hanging from the door swayed right before his eyes.

_"Dreamy..."_

....well, it _is_ big enough, especially if he unzipped some of the hidden pockets. And if he left the apple- _No!_ Dream shook his head against the internal shout. 

The apple needed to stay with him. If... on the off chance that Nightmare... Well, whatever excuse or fear he had, Dream couldn't bring himself to part with the fruit. _I'm supposed to protect you..._ though he still didn't know who told him or why... Sighing, the guardian grabbed his satchel and dropped back downstairs to fill it up with the food for their picnic. The kids raced up those same stairs, followed by Res and Spright. _Heh, they'll sleep good tonight, won't they?_

It would be another night of Dream trying to keep the kids' nightmares away...

With no one around to keep distracted with a bright smile and cheerful act, Dream let his posture drop into something more defeated and sighed yet again. "Guys, please... please make it some safe and sound..." and soon, preferably. "The kids need you."

A quieter part of him whispered the second truth he avoided, _**I** need you, guys._

Blinking back tears, Dream forced his smile back in place and turned to his bed. There should be a few more bags under. "Find a bag, pack for the day, help the kids wash..." and then the birthday would continue. 

Hopefully, it would be a happy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the knowledge that Paperjam is _canonically_ genderfluid!


	18. Failure...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see how Nightmare believes Ink did on his mission.

Fuck.

Fuck!

_ **Fuck!** _

"INK!" Error shouted, narrowly dodging a sharp bone as he ran to his husband. With an agonized scream he didn't quite register, a series of sharp, deadly attacks shot up from the floor _just_ as Error caught Ink in a tackle that forced them both out of harms way. His leg stung, but the destroyer didn't even notice the pain. "Ink, fuck- CROSS! OPEN A PORTAL BACK! **NOW!"**

"We still have-" 

"OPEN IT NOW, DAMMIT!" Error pulled strings and bound Fell's wrists together.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Fell shrieked. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE _TO MY BROTHER?!"_

Cross opened a portal reaching out just as Error wrapped his strings around his arms. Cross yanked, hauling Error and his sobbing husband through the portal with him. 

They were still in Underfell. 

But in Hotland. 

Ink clung to Error, still shuddering with the aftermath of killing Red and Fell's fury. 

"Stay here. I'm going to find the others," Cross muttered. He opened another portal to another part of Underfell and vanished.

Gently, Error eased Ink to the floor. The ground was hot, but the heat was easier to ignore without skin to wound. "F-fuck, Inky, where... where does it hurt?" he asked, careful not to skim the nasty cut from Red as he checked the artist over. _Nothing on his front._ A quick glance at Ink's back showed just the wound from Red, but otherwise, all clear. 

Red died too quickly for any injuries to transfer onto Ink.

"Ink, _please_, speak to me. I... I need to know what's wrong." Beyond the obvious. Terrified, Error kept up his desperate search for wounds. _Nothing else._ There was nothing else. And Ink... stars, he didn't _look_ like he was dusting, but that didn't mean he couldn't. Not with the strength that seemed to be behind his abilities. "P-please, please talk to me, Ink. I... fuck, Rorschach, _I don't know what to do!"_

Choking down his next sob, Ink weakly clutched onto Error's jacket. He tried to form a sound beyond his harsh, broken cries, but no words would come. Red's death was a phantom pain that ached with the intensity of a thousand attacks hitting their target all at once. _Oh gods, I'm dying. I'm dying...!!_

But as the minutes dragged on by, no dust formed from Ink's bones.

A portal opened and Error was quick to pull Ink up onto his feet. Wavering, the artist nearly fell to his knees but an arm around his waist steadied him. After a bit of nudging, he slid one of his own over Error's shoulders and leaned his weight into his first.

The sight of Killer, Horror, and Endure sporting smiles of various sizes and dust stained clothing nearly had him crumpling down to the floor.

_Back at the castle... back too soon...!_

Ink kept his head down and bit back his sobs to quiet whimpers. Cross shut the portal behind them, shooting a concerned look over the both of them before his expression faded and he glanced to the throne. 

Nightmare was there.

Perched on the arm of his throne with his legs thrown over Nightmare's lap was Reaper there to accompany him.

Ink tensed and tried to step forward, his face twisting into a growl, but Nightmare smirked. "I see you made it back." He gently tilted Reaper's head to look at his husbands. "Look, little bird. They're back!" But with another close look, Nightmare's smile fell. "It looks like you're missing something though." 

Error pulled Ink back slightly, half growling, "We got the doll." 

"But not my new nightmare." Nightmare stroked Reaper's face with slightly curved claws as he stared down the husbands. Ink glanced to Cross and, sure enough, the doll of Geno was in one of his free arms. "Tell me, artist. Where is my nightmare?" 

Ink opened his mouth, fully intending to answer, but... nothing came out. 

"Speak, artist." 

He tried again, and a soft whimper escaped instead of words. The pain was still echoing through him. 

Horror raised a hand in the air, looking to Nightmare. Their boss frowned slightly more but nodded his head. "Speak, Horror." 

"I can tell ya what happened to him. Rather..." with a jingle, Horror pulled out a very... familiar collar. "I can _show_ you." 

At the gleaming of the spikes on the collar, Ink shot his gaze down again, trying hard to ignore the phantom pains.

All emotion was wiped clean from Nightmare's face. The taunting smiles, the calculated looks of the positivity he could never truly feel... even the cold looks and warning frowns were gone. In their place; an unreadable emptiness that offered insight to Nightmare's thoughts. Even his gaze was empty. Cold.

The only sign of his displeasure were the claws digging bloody grooves into Reaper's cheek.

"I see..." he drawled, tone flat. "And why, pray tell, did you decide to defy my orders so drastically?" When Error's grin unsealed to answer, Nightmare pulled his bloody fingers from Reaper's face and lifted his hand to silence the destroyer. "The question is not yours to answer, Destroyer. It is the Defier I question."

Ink's breathing slowly quickened. The words weren't coming. He parted his teeth, yet no sound came beyond a pitiful, humiliating sob. "I..." he eventually choked out. That was the most noise he could produce.

Displeased, Nightmare turned his attention away from the artist to Horror instead. "Come, Horror. Bring me the evidence of the Defier's mistake. Cross, take that doll and swap it for the one that breathes. I want it delivered here within the next five minutes. Everyone else," he snatched the offered collar from Horror's hand, _"out._ Expect _you,_ Defier. You and I still have business."

He even shoved Reaper off his lap, uncaring of where he landed. Reaper stumbled to his feet, eyes flickering uncertainly between his husbands. Error nodded for him to go ahead as he carefully untangled himself from Ink. _Stars I can't even offer any support, it's too silent...!_

Error stepped away from his first, though it tore at his SOUL. Especially when Ink barely kept to his feet, and when his back still dripped inky blood. Cross walked behind Error and Reaper, following the two to their part of the castle. Equally as silent, Killer, Endure and Horror left the throne room, with one last smirk thrown from Horror to Ink. 

_Alone... alone with **him**... for the moment..._ Ink kept his gaze down, squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes that his tears wouldn't fall. 

As Nightmare had ordered, Cross was back within five minutes, carefully carrying Geno in his arms.

Mood grown foul with the lost of what would have been his newest tool, Nightmare met Cross' perfect obedience with disdain. "Next time, I expect you here sooner." he growled, uncaring that the second still had minutes to spare before he would have been considered tardy. "Bring me my doll, second. And do it quickly else my ire grow."

Silent, Cross forced himself to set aside his own desire for defiance and made his way to the king's throne with Geno held close. _Don't weaken your barrier, don't let your mask crack..._ Head bowed respectfully, he held his arms out and didn't so much as blink when Geno's head lolled to the side without the support of his shoulder.

"Your doll, my king." he announced with a quiet, respectful tone.

Without so much as an ounce of gentleness, Nightmare tore Geno from his second's hold. "What the hell is this?" Pinching the end of the bag Error fashioned into a poncho of sorts for the glitch, Nightmare frowned. "An answer, Second. Now."

"The newest nightmares have taken precautions to account for the glitch's morning sickness. Error planned to request-"

"Enough. Whatever it is Error wished for, it's denied." Roughly, Nightmare tore the bag off of Geno. When faced with the comfortable clothing worn by the glitch under, he ruthlessly ripped and tore at the material until Geno sat sprawled across his lap in nothing more than a long shirt borrowed from Ink. "Better." he murmured. Apparently appeased by the cruelty, he smiled. "Well then, let's move on."

The king stood, manipulating Geno with his tendrils until the glitch was slumped in the throne. Nightmare stalked towards Ink, eye focused on the artist, though Ink kept his gaze down. "Look at me, Defier." So, slowly, he did. 

"Cross," Nightmare called, "why don’t you stay here and guard the door. Inky and I are going to have our chat, but we won’t mind you sitting in on it," he glanced to Ink, smiling. “Will we, my little Defier?"...

Uneasiness? Wariness? Worry? Ink couldn't pinpoint what the small crack in Cross' mask was. "Got it, Boss."

With that, Ink and Nightmare stood there, the artist between the captor and the unaware captive behind him.

They stared at each other. Ink trying not to fidget as Nightmare seemed to glower. He tilted his head, "Mind telling me your dirty little secret, artist?" 

Ink blinked, frowning. "I…" _stars why was his voice fighting him still…?!_ "I have nothing to tell."

Nightmare laughed lowly, invading his space to put a hand over the artist’s chest. "Try again, with a little more truth. When did you get a soul?" His voice dropped to a purr, "I've never felt anything like what you're experiencing Inky. It's almost like..." Nightmare's eye glittered. _"...you can feel other emotions._ Heh, but that's impossible. Right?" 

"Y-yeah, impossible." 

His voice hardened, "Nearly as impossible as a soulless little artist gaining a fully functioning soul."

Ink smiled tightly, "Yeah, just as...just as impossible as that." _Why… why are you asking me about my SOUL…?_

"You're really going to keep denying it, aren't you? Even though I can feel it pounding beneath your sternum?" When Ink remained silent, Nightmare shook his head. "You three ought to stop this defiance thing, Inky. Error, I expected it from, but I really didn't think you would be so bold after all the warnings I've already given you. But of course… art is more your thing, is it not? Maybe I should make the warning into a format you would understand. Tell me, would you like to see sweet Genocide perform for you, Inky?"

"...No," he whispered.

Nightmare smiled, victorious. "Then tell me, is it impossible for a soulless being to gain a soul?"

"No."

"There we go," Nightmare purred, "nice and obedient. Just how I like you, Inky. Only, I'm not going to let your earlier defiance slide. You killed my new toy before I even had a chance to play with it." He clapped, and the gleam in his eye grew brighter, "Art is about the experience. The… the _emotion_ evoked in the performance. Let's see how this show will make you _feel."_

Ink's eyes widened, "W-wait!"

The other skeleton was already walking away, returning to his throne where he had left Geno slumping against the arm of the dramatic chair. "What was it you told me? Oh yes," Nightmare's eye was bright and toxic as he glanced back over his shoulder, **"no."**

Nightmare smirked and reclaimed his seat on his throne, his eye peering at Ink with malicious delight as his tendrils slithered around Geno's limbs and strung him up before their owner like a limp puppet hanging from its strings. "Geno is going to perform for you, Inky. While he does," the limp skeleton's SOUL appeared in Nightmare’s hands, "you're going to tell me how you **feel** about his performance. **After** it’s done, of course. You won't give a proper review if you don't see it through until the end."

There was no one else. No one to buffer the emotions, the feelings, the pain. It was just the four of them. And only one would find pleasure in this.


	19. ...Has Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we are sorry. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings**: Explicit on-screen torture. Threatened rape.

It started slow. 

The tendrils around Geno's legs shifted, undulating as they circled his bones and crept up higher towards his femurs. The shirt Geno was dressed in was more than large enough to keep him covered, but the dark, gooey tendrils pushed it aside the higher they climbed; black trails of slime left in their wake.

It tickled, Ink realized. The joyful color that was always so common around their children when they played was around Geno now, though it wasn't as strong. It was a pale hue, a mere shadow of the vibrant color it should have been. Wherever Geno was inside that head of his, he wasn't quite aware enough to fully register the feeling. Still, it tickled at least a bit, and Geno _felt_ that.

Nausea churned Ink's stomach when the tendrils moved higher. 

Geno wasn't feeling very ticklish now.

_Stop it...stop it, please..._ he wanted to beg, but there wasn't any point in begging, was there? Nightmare was doing this under the guise of punishment but that's all it was: a disguise. A ruse. He was really doing this because it _amused_ him. Because he _knew_ Ink's empathy secret and wanted to toy with him until Ink admitted it himself, even though Nightmare already guessed what it was.

_Would it matter if I admit it now…?_

When Geno whimpered, Ink closed his eyes, hating himself for wishing it was a noise of pain.

_But...would that be such a bad thing?_ Geno was stronger than he looked, Ink knew. All those genocides....you didn't live through pain like that and find the strength to continue caring for others when you were weak. And...and Geno could handle pain. His wound was gone, yes, but he’d lived with it for years. If Nightmare hurt him inst-

Ink cut his thoughts off then and there, disgusted with himself.

Pain or a sick sort of pleasure? Was he really standing there trying to decide which he wished Geno was going through when either way it wouldn't change the fact that _Geno had to go through it?_

_Stars… Gen doesn't deserve this…! Gen doesn't deserve any of this!_

"Inky," Nightmare purred, "you're missing the show. Open your eyes."

Swallowing the viscous vomit that threatened to fall from his mouth, Ink obeyed.

Nightmare tore Geno's SOUL to shreds the moment he did.

And Ink, unprepared, screamed alongside Geno.

The immediate glee Nightmare felt? Ink almost didn't feel that grimy color. 

Until he spoke. 

"So... you want to put words to what's happening to you, Inky?" 

Ink was wheezing, vision blurry and soul racing from the pain it felt but wasn't experiencing for itself.

"No? Very well then. Let's see how you feel about using your words after _this."_

With that, Nightmare gathered the shards in his hands and pressed them together, uncaring of Geno's desperate cries as the jagged pieces rubbed against one another painfully, searching out the correct shards in order to reform. The small, tendril bound skeleton was loud in his pain, the torture to his SOUL ringing out with shrill screams and pieces of begging cries.

Ink, on the other hand, was quiet, blood dripping from his mouth as he bit into his tongue to silence the noises he so desperately wanted to make. Nightmare _knew_ it hurt but Ink didn't want to give him anymore of that sick glee by adding to Geno's own symphony.

But, stars, ‘hurt’ was an understatement.

It was so, so much worse than when the precious SOUL was torn, the process to reform again so much slower than the initial destruction and dragging the torture out into something far more agonizing that Ink couldn't find the words to truly describe. He was sure that he was crying and even more certain that he wasn't standing anymore with how cool his stained cheek felt. The floor? Staring blankly ahead and blinking through his agony, Ink saw that, yes, that was the floor.

"Hey, Inky?" Nightmare called. He couldn't bring himself to lift his blurry gaze. "Did you know that you're supposed to tell performers to break a leg before they go on stage? Tell me, how would you feel if Gen here took that advice a little too _literally?"_

Ink choked out a sob, and a splatter of rainbow and black blood decorated the floor by his face. _Don't... don't..._ he knew he would feel it. He didn't **want** to feel it. He knew his soul allow him to feel what others _emotionally_ felt, as well as _physically._ It was almost a curse, considering the hell he and his husbands found themselves in. He briefly recalled the three—Killer, Muffet, _Red_—and fear shook his soul. Yeah, he'd feel it if Geno's leg was broken. _His body would even mimic that injury…_

"Please..." he barely managed. This isn't his pain, he's not really hurt, not yet- "N-Nightmare, please-" 

"Do it?" 

"No...!" Ink fought the feelings, the colors, the fucking white. Desperation had him pushing himself up, tears flowing more. **No...!!**

**C R A C K**

Ink doubled over, bile spilling from his mouth. He couldn't tell what triggered it. The noise? His- no, _Geno's_ pain? It echoing through him? Nightmare's delight at the immediate reactions? 

_All of it._

Nightmare waited for the screams to die back down to wheezes and sobs. "So, Squid. How are you feeling?"

"Stop," he rasped, "p-please… please s-stop… hurting h-him..."

Nightmare smiled. "I'm curious, Inky. Do you want me to stop being so mean to poor, little Geno because you can't stand to see _him_ in pain...or is more selfish than that? Do you want me to stop for Geno's sake, ex-protector, or _yours?"_

Ink's shame was immediately snuffed by his rage. He could feel fucking _everything,_ what more did this asshole want?! Ink focused on that pain. On what Geno was going through even though his smallest husband didn’t deserve it. He momentarily cursed himself for not having any abilities over moving another's soul, and instead concentrated on everything Geno felt. The agony, the despair, the darkness. 

_I'm so sorry Geno… you didn't deserve this… you… you shouldn't be punished for my mistake..._

Ink opened himself to it. Invited everything Geno felt into Ink's own soul- 

He had no time to regret the torture that _tripled_ and ran through him in waves. He rode those waves with a silent scream, but didn't let them fade back to Geno. _He doesn’t deserve it…!_ Instead?

The ex-Protector stood. Slowly. Shaking, and bleeding from his eyes and mouth, leg and back. His clothes a mess of vomit and blood, dust and bile. 

He stood. 

And looked Nightmare right in the face. 

His eye lights were red targets, filled with spiteful rage.

Nightmare's eye narrowed, a mixture of caution and interest in his gaze as Ink stared him down. "You did something."

Ink's head tilted, threatening eyes never once breaking the connection of their gazes. "Did I?" he whispered. 

Annoyance. A bit of surprise, too. "Yes," Nightmare murmured, "you did. You wouldn't dare look me in the eye with such a blatant threat shining in yours unless you were certain Geno wouldn't suffer for it. What did you do?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Nightmare smirked, "Because if you don't, then I'll just have to find the answer out for myself. I'll give you one more chance though, Inky. " smirk widening, Nightmare took one of Geno's wrists. His fingers curled around it in a slowly tightening grip. _"Tell me what you just did."_

Ink continued to stare at him. He was thinking about something. Nightmare initially thought Ink was debating on telling him, but as the seconds marched by, Nightmare realized that wasn't quite right. 

Ink's mouth quirked up in a cocky smirk. "You know, middlemen are so untrustworthy-" 

Nightmare paused, his own smile growing. 

_ **C R A C K** _

Geno didn't cry out. Ink barely flinched, though that same wrist on the artist seemed to be changing colors. 

"Aren't you bored, Nightmare? Don't the screams get boring?" 

Nightmare checked Geno's wrist. It was definitely broken, but Geno felt wrong. Numb. _"What the fuck did you do?!"_

Ink laughed. Hoarse, raspy, wild. "I have no idea!" 

Nightmare's eye light dilated just slightly. _He was telling the truth. Unless, he'd convinced himself it was the truth._

Slowly, the red hot rage around Nightmare dwindled down. Nightmare was mad—very, very mad—but his interest had yet to fade. Worse, there was _excitement_ there now too.

"You're right, Inky," Nightmare chuckled, "I was starting to get bored. Geno's screams aren't as fun anymore. Even the ones he makes for me when we have sex had started to lose their appeal. Then again," the tip of a tendril traced Geno's melted socket, "I suppose that's what happens when you go for the old, damage toys instead of the exciting new ones."

With a sharp motion, the tendril buried itself in Geno's socket, squirming around within the confines of his skull until the tip found his other, undamaged eye and broke free, waving at Ink teasingly while lacing through his husband's skull. 

When Ink's symbols guttered out at the agony and blood flowed more freely from his sockets, Nightmare smiled wide.

"You took his pain." Glee dripped from Nightmare's voice like the sludge trailing down Geno's cheeks. "I don't know how, but you did. You took fragile little Geno's pain so that he doesn't have to feel any of this. I could snap every finger and break every bone and he wouldn't feel it." The thought brought a wider smile to Nightmare's face. "I was getting bored, Inky. I **was**, but you just fixed that problem. Is it just pain?" curiously, Nightmare used the tendril piercing Geno's sockets to bring him close. Eyes on Ink, he ran his tongue across the unaware skeleton's neck. "Or did you take it **all**?"

Ink remained silent, his teeth gritted.

"Would you feel it if I fucked him?" Nightmare purred, his teeth trailing lower as the tendrils lifted Geno higher. "Would you feel me pushing into him feel like I'm pushing into _you_, Inky?" Slowly, he drew the shirt Geno wore up. _"Do you want to find out?"_

Panic.

It wasn't entirely Ink's.

"M-my king..." Cross spoke up, wincing slightly at the baleful glare sent his way. He bowed his head respectfully, "Underfell will reset. We can still... convince Red to join us somehow." 

"And why would I want a boring little mutt like that when I have _these?"_ Nightmare shook Geno roughly and waved a hand at Ink.

Cross stood his ground. "More nightmares, more negativity, more power against your brother." 

Nightmare narrowed his eye on his second. The guard's shield stood strong, and his gaze near uncaring as he watched his boss. "A clever idea, Cross..." he turned his gaze to Ink, smile stretching wide again. "Maybe I should have you go back?" He stroked Geno's head, watching with amusement how Ink tried not to cringe against the sensation. "Convince Red to join us. Kill him every time he says no. How long would it take you to become numb to killing your friend, I wonder? And how long would it take for him to say yes?"

_Once, twice... he'd die a thousand times before even considered agreeing._ With the resets, with the genocides peppered throughout his world, it would be just another Tuesday for the red-eyed skeleton. With time, the fear and betrayal would give way to hatred filled rage. 

Ink didn't say any of that though. He said nothing.

Tutting, Nightmare brought Geno closer to him and skimmed a hand up his arm. Slowly, he ran his fingertips across the smooth surface of the skeletons bone before tracing an unseen path up the glitch's neck and across his face. He loitered here and there just to drag the contact Ink felt out more before finally reaching the socket hidden beyond the glitch Geno wore. 

Expression twisting with disgust as he traced the melted drips, Nightmare murmured, "Disgusting. Someone really ought to fix that for him."

Still, Ink said nothing, though his thoughts were far from quiet. _Stop touching him, damnit! Stop... leave him alone!_ It didn't matter that Geno could no longer feel it. Ink wanted Nightmare's filthy hands off of his husband.

Again, the king made a noise of displeasure. Instead of addressing Ink's silence, he continued tracing the unnatural dips of Geno's right socket. "Then again... he's _my_ property now. That makes him my responsibility, doesn't it? So I guess I should just..." 

_ **c r a c k** _

Dust mingled with the blood pouring from Ink's right socket. Had inky black not turned it into shadowy tinted sludge, there would have been no physical difference between his dust and the grey Nightmare was flicking from his fingertips. _Geno's dust..._

Ink's rage the same shade of the blood trailing down from beneath the glitch. _He... he broke his socket..._ Judging from where the pain was concentrated, Nightmare tore a piece of bone from where the drips originated.

Tilting Geno's head back, the King peered beneath the glitch the best he could. "Shame, I made it worse. I may have to file that mess down to pretty him up." Uncaringly, he released Geno and let him fall limp across his lap. When the smaller skeleton's head collided with the arm of his throne, he didn't so much as blink. "That's a chore for later though. We weren't quite done with our conversation."

Cross bravely spoke up. "My king, perhaps it would be better to continue this tomorrow? The artist needs repairing and if this continues, you'll miss your plans for the afternoon."

Nightmare eyed him. "And who says I want the artist fixed up?"

"A tool unable to operate is of no use to you, my king. The only reason you tolerate the glitch is because of the role he plays."

A smile warmed Nightmare's face. That same smile that Ink hated. _Dream's beautiful, sunny grin._ "Oh, that's not the _only_ reason... but you're right. Cross, help my foolish, defying artist to his room. Notify Horror that his aid is needed afterwards."

"...Geno..." Ink choked. When Nightmare looked to him, he swallowed his blood to speak more clearly. "Gi...give me back Geno..." _You don't deserve to touch him. You don't deserve to look at him or even speak his name._

"You have your doll, artist. I have mine."

_He isn't yours! Heisn'tyoursheisn'tyoursheisn'tyours!_ Ink blinked, a fresh wave of blood joined by crimson tears. _He's **mine**, damnit!_ "I... I want-"

"I don't care what you want." Nightmare drawled. "Go. I tire of looking at you."

"N...Night-"

"Enough. I want to play with **my** doll in peace."

Still, Ink pushed. "No, I-"

**c r a c k**

Pain flared in Ink's left hand. Two fingers broken... 

"I said **enough**, Empath."

Ink tensed, vision blurring from the torment and broken socket, and now from the shock- 

He... he knows what an empath is...? He knows that word...? 

The only trace of surprise on Cross' face was in the blink as he transferred gazes from his boss to Ink, then back. Nightmare stared Ink down, narrowing his eye when Ink still refused to look away. "Cross. Take him away before I break him beyond repair." 

Cross bowed his head then walked toward Ink. Still, the artist didn't break his gaze with Nightmare. Didn't even blink. A red target remained in his left socket. Even as Cross maneuvered Ink into a position where the artist could limp next to him until he got to the room, he didn't look away. Once the door shut behind him, Ink felt another break, this time on his other hand, and the tears flowed harder. 

_Red and purple..._

_ **KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!** _

The sound was a lot heavier than usual, but Error had thrown the door open almost before Cross was done.

As if time were slowed, the seconds that trickled by once his eyes met Error's felt like years. Eons took place within those few seconds. Entire universes were birthed and ended interchangeably with every blink of Error's eyes. A lifetime passed, Ink was sure. Maybe even two, or many as three.

And then, the bright, blinding white of his husbands terror overwhelmed him and Ink knew no more. He knew not what time was, who the scream ringing in his nonexistent ears belonged to, or even what his own name was. He knew nothing but the thick sheet of freshly fallen snow blinding him.

He forgot so much.

Drowned in terror, he forgot that he was even forgetting things.

Heh, he even forgot how much he feared the emptiness of an unending white. 

But his body remembered. Everything forgotten by his mind in the face of the raw emotion from his husbands could not be erased from the physical formed that housed his thoughts. The blood dripping down his face like morbid drops of rain, the dust sprinkled around his broken socket, the pain of his leg, his wrist, his fingers...

...the pain he couldn't feel...?

Distantly, Ink knew that wasn't right. His broken leg hurt, but the wounds that didn't quite fully transfer over didn't. His aching wrist, his fingers that felt crookened and bent even though they weren't... they should hurt.

_There should be purple in this white._ Intense purple. Where was it?

_Where was it, where was it, where-_

...

...

...

**Why couldn't he feel Geno?******


	20. Good Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which punishments occur regardless of the deed.

Like a man breaking free from a could-have-been watery grave, Ink shot up straight on the sofa he had been moved to and gasped desperately for breath. "G-Ge-" he choked, unable to say much more. He couldn't- he stopped the- "G-Geno! _**Geno!"**_ he screamed, eyes unseeing as he sifted through the mass of color around him. Too-faint purple, red, blue, _white, white, white..._ where was Geno?! Where was-

_There._ Faint with distance, a cluster of white-**purple**-blue. Geno. His Geno. 

Ignoring the worried calls of his name, Ink latched onto that ball of color and greedily pulled it close. Across every hall that separated them, he dragged Geno's color to himself and pulled yet again until it settled within him. At once, his own purple hue increased.

_Snap!_

_Snap!_

_Snap!_

_Snap!_

_ **Crack!** _

Error and Reaper screamed. Ink merely sighed in relief with a tight smile as the fresh wounds darkened his bones with color. _I won't let him hurt you, Ge._ Ink wouldn't lose his connection again.

Cross had left minutes ago, hurrying to grab Horror and the healing food. Error paced in front of the couch, two steps away from crashing while he whispered, "What the fuck what the fuck _whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck...?!?!!"_

Somehow, Reaper felt like the healing items wouldn't help Ink, unless it healed Geno. But the Ink in front of them was in nearly a catatonic state like Geno had been. _Was still in?_ "Inky...??" Reaper called out hesitantly. "Ink, p-please, hey, can you hear us...?! Ink, can-" 

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Error cried out. _Stars, he wanted to shake this damned fool!!! What the fuck is he thinking?! What the fuck is he even doing!?!_ Error couldn't even stand touch long enough to slap Ink, let alone shake him or apply medicine. "WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU PRICK!" His voice warbled higher with desperation. "I-Ink-!" 

Three sharp knocks, and Cross let himself in, carrying a bowl of soup. 

Ink murmured, "Not hungry." 

Cross knelt next to him, growling, "I'm not sure how you've managed to do this, but you need to let him go. You're just going to get him and yourself hurt more."

Blood colored Ink's teeth when he snarled, "No. _No!_ You don't understand, Cross. If I let him go, all it's going to do is send everything back to him. Geno-!" A series of cold, wet appendages slid across his form. Although they kept their filthy paws away from his pelvis and thighs, the touch still poured more red out of his eyes. Disgust joined the angry hue. "I let go, and he _suffers_, Cross."

"He's suffering _now,"_ Cross argued. "Just because you- what? Took everything? Whatever it is that you did doesn't change the fact that Nightmare is hurting him, Ink. His bones are still breaking!"

"He can't feel-"

"He's _pregnant,_ Ink!" Ink jumped despite his best efforts to remain still. Cross' voice raising was always so startling with how much it contrasted his usual cool, calm tone. "I know it's fucked up, but what are you going to do if Nightmare's games affects the child? Do you think he cares that its his? Because he doesn't. He'll gladly sacrifice his own flesh and blood if it means toying with you because what you're doing now? It's _interesting_ him, Ink. He'll keep breaking Geno to play with _you."_ The second's voice lowered. "And after that last threat of his? You should know he won't stop at breaking bones." 

The cold appendages retreated, but phantom slick remained on Ink's bones. After awhile, it began to tingle. Then, it started to burn as cream infused with healing magic forced misplaced bone to align and broken pieces to seal, though Ink noted the painful, forceful healing didn't include Geno's eye. _Fix his socket, you fucker!_ A wound like that couldn't heal on its own. 

But Ink wasn't able to focus on that concern for long before the familiar sensation of teeth pressed to his-

Red targets flared brighter. _He's kissing him. That fucker-_ The teeth were gone in the blink of an eye, but Ink's rage remained. Firmly, he growled, "I'm not letting Geno suffer through _anything_ Nightmare does to him.*

Reaper inched closer. "Ink... Inky, the... Cross is-" 

"No." 

Error snarled, pacing harder. _Idiot idiot idiot idiot...!_

"If the kid dies, Ink?" Cross snapped impatiently. 

"Geno'll blame himself," Reaper whispered. 

Ink's gaze flickered. "It isn't." 

Error hissed, "You think he'll care who the blame really belongs to? He'll blame himself, even if it'll be yours and Nightmare's faults." 

Again, Ink's gaze flickered. _M-mine...?_

_Child killer...._

_He won't. He won't kill the kid. He..._ Ink wasn't sure. But... but he was sure about trying to protect Geno. Stars, he hasn't been able to protect anything...! Why...? Why the hell are they trying to keep him from protecting _his Geno?!_

A sense of weightlessness.... _He's being carried._ Carefully? Was Geno being cradled, or did Nightmare have him thrown over a shoulder? Stars, were those disgusting tendrils holding Geno? _No... I can't feel the slick from them._ But that meant Nightmare's arms were possibly around Geno instead. Stars, he couldn't tell for sure just what was going on.

Someone called his name. It took Cross shouting it for Ink to snap out of his daze. "I'm not changing my mind," he said, sure whatever the second wanted had to do with that.

Cross watched him with frustrated eyes. "This... this isn't protecting him, Ink. It's pure idiocy."

Error's laugh was bitter. "Cross, that's practically his second name." Stubborn could probably tie with idiot though. _He isn't going to agree with us. I could get down on my knees and beg and he wouldn't do anything more than try to comfort me while he fucking **bleeds.**_ Ink's wounded socket was repairing itself, but the progress was slow.

"Socket, fingers, wrist, leg..._SOUL_..." Ink caught Reaper's gaze with his own. "He's your favorite, Reaps. Are you going to tell me you're not happy he won't hurt?"

_Of all the low-_

Reaper stepped back, wounded. "I... I don't want _any_ of you in pain, Ink!"

"One of us is always going to be in pain-" 

"You killed Red," Cross interrupted harshly. "Why?" 

_I didn't know what Nightmare planned. I figured death was kinder. I didn't want to see my friend turn evil. I didn't want to have to torture him for Nightmare's amusement. I-_ "Panicked." 

"When he's in a better mood, I can try talking to him," Cross bargained. "You bring Red here, drop whatever you're doing with Geno, and maybe you can get Geno back." 

Ink's lights flashed. "No." _But why not...?_

_"So many people have traded you into painful situations to free themselves. Doesn't that anger you? Upset you?"_

Ink's gaze went distant. Who's voice is that...? Who...? 

_"Oh that's right. You can't feel anything without your paints. It's impossible for you to care any less than you do right now. Heh... how nice."_

"Who is..." It... it wasn't with Geno. Ink gripped his skull. What.... what was...? "It's still a life for a life. I... I can't-" 

"It's TWO lives for ONE!" Reaper screeched. The god reached out and, against Cross' advisement, shook Ink by the shoulders. "It's your _husband's_ life and his _child's_ life in exchange for the life of someone who now views you as an enemy." 

"Family's lives versus friend's lives..." 

Cross raised a spoon closer to Ink's face. "You still need to eat-" 

"I'm not hungry. I'm tired."

Snarling, Error snatched the bowl from Cross' hands. Hot soup spilled over his fingers, but the pain went ignored in favor of gathering a spoonful. "Open your mouth, Ink."

Skeletons didn't need to unseal their grins to speak. Stubbornly, Ink kept his shut. "No, Error. I'm not hungry." _No more voices....?_ Good, he didn't like them.

He could focus on Geno without the unknown to interfere. _Where is he...?_ For some reason, Ink couldn't sense his location. _He's not in the throne room, but... that's all I can tell..._ But their connection was still there. Geno wasn't feeling much at the moment, but the glitch's emotions were still being directed to Ink. _He isn't weightless anymore. Nightmare set him down... Where though? Where was his husban-_

In his distraction, the spoonful of soup was pushed into his mouth. "Eat, Ink. Just... fuck, do us a favor and eat. You can sleep afterwards, damnit."

"You still have training with me tomorrow." 

"Cancel- OW!" Ink flinched from the heat of the second spoonful and turned away from Error. 

Chuckling darkly, Cross murmured, "I'm not canceling. You're going to eat this damned soup and get some damned rest. If you've released Geno tomorrow morning, he'll stop-" 

"Tell him to heal Geno _properly_ and give him to us." Ink glared at Cross. 

Cross stared back, incredulous. "The... the fact that you think you have **any** sway with Nightmare is... heh, it's truly **astounding**." 

Ink narrowed his sockets at Cross. "Tch..." he glanced away and started to sit up. "I'm going to shower-" 

"Like _hell_ you are. Fucking eat, Ink," Error ordered.

Something shifted against his bones. Fabric...? He didn't have enough time to guess before a chill hit him. _Cold... Geno's cold..._ Why? Why was...?

Another light brush of fabric. Too thin to be a blanket, not large enough to be a sheet. _Clothes,_ Ink realized, thoughts captured by his littlest husband once again. When Error took advantage of this and pushed another spoonful of soup into his mouth, he merely swallowed. Fighting his husband over the food wasn't important. Not right now. _The cold... Geno's naked right now..._

The next spoonful he swallowed was choked down with an enraged growl. The fabric he felt was gone, but it soon returned. No, it was gone again. Now it was back.

Gone.

Back.

Gone.

_Nightmare's sampling clothes..._ He wasn't dressing Geno, but laying clothing over him to... to what? To find the perfect pretty outfit for _Ink's_ husband? _Like a **doll.**_

By the time Nightmare selected an outfit and the chill Ink felt faded, no more soup remained in the bowl Error held. Good. One less argument to have. "Are you happy?"

"Ink-"

_**"I'm not changing my mind, Cross,"**_ He hissed without looking at the second. His red-black eyes were on Error, though the nasty emotions were meant for his first. "Are you happy? The soup is gone." His socket felt better, but the purple, while dampened, was still there. _Geno's pain..._ because Ink's socket was healed, but not Geno's.

Teeth pressed a kiss to Ink's forehead. Then, his cheeks.

When a mouth not belonging to the husbands in the room with him connected with his own, Ink tore through the material of the couch's cushioning he didn't even realize he was gripping. _**Nightmare...**_

Coldly, Error murmured, "I'd be happier if you didn't put us all in danger." He stood from his position by Ink and walked away. 

Reaper glanced between the two. The god was tired. After singing to Nightmare and being forced in his lap most of their mission out, he just wanted to cuddle with his husbands, dammit! And now? It looked like he'd be warming the bed by himself. 

Cross searched Ink's distant gaze, but couldn't see a way to bring sense into the artist. _Fine... tomorrow's going to be a new day..._

"You're not protecting him, Ink..." Reaper murmured the cruel, but true words. "You... you're just aiding in his torture... please st-stop...!"

The kiss broke, and nothing else followed. No more touches, no other sensations to hint that Geno was being toyed with... Nightmare was gone, it seemed. 

Still, Ink didn't break the connection. 

"He can't feel it, Reaps." Why? Why didn't any of them understand that? "Wherever he is in his head, he's scared Reaper. You..." _You weren't there. You didn't hear his screams as Nightmare tore his SOUL to shreds._ Reaper, Error... they weren't there to witness the torture Ink was protecting Geno from. "If I drop our connection, then Nightmare will add pain to that fear. He'll worsen everything Geno is already suffering. I... I can save him from that, hon. Why isn't that good enough for you guys?"

Reaper watched him in silence, eyes sad. "And if you're making it worse?"

"Letting him feel what I feel _is_ what's worse, Reaps."

Cross sighed, a headache forming in his skull. "We can't convince him. Ink," his voice hardened, "I'll try to convince Nightmare to give Geno back." _Do you even know what kind of position you're putting me in? Or even Geno and yourself?_ "If by some miracle he listens, _then you have to drop the connection."_

Ink scowled. "I'll drop it when he's safe. When there's nothing here that can hurt him."

In this castle? Safe wasn't a reality. "Nightmare is in a foul mood, so there'll be no group dinner today. Stay in your quarters, eat a meal or two, and then rest. See you tomorrow." Cross left before they even finished their goodbyes, sure that anymore time spent with Ink's stubbornness would drive him to say something he'd regret.

Reaper looked away from Ink, but didn't leave. _A cold, wet hand curled around his neck. Praise for his songs whispered against vertebrae. Tendrils coaxing his legs over the arm of the throne as they dragged him onto Nightmare's lap..._ He didn't want to be alone. Not like Error who clearly needed silence at the moment.

Ink glanced over to Reaper, though it was clear the artist wasn't fully there. "...I'm just trying to protect..." 

Reaper dropped his gaze to the floor. _He means well... he... thinks he's doing the right thing by doing this, doesn't he...? But what if it's me? Or **Error**...? Surely he wouldn't...?_

A crueler voice surfaced in Reaper's mind. _He's just curious about how much he can push before Nightmare gets **really** mad. He just wants to test the limits of his powers. He doesn't care. He **never** cared. Not about you, or Geno, or Error, or the kids-_ "Ink," Reaper whispered, desperate to have something drown that voice out. 

"Reaps, I'm not-" 

"I know, but... I... are you okay...? After ki- um, the accident with Red....?" 

Ink frowned at him. "....it wasn't.... it wasn't an accident...." his voice broke, "Reaps, I... _I killed a friend_.... y-you don't just get... _forgiven_ for that kinda shit...!"

Reaper forced himself to look at Ink. Red-black symbols stared back at him, but he could see the blue rising to overcome the foul, spiteful colors. _He... he's really upset..._ Of course he was. Ink... _He isn't cruel._ No matter what his traitorous thoughts tried to convince him to believe. 

"Inky..."

"Red is a Fell monster, Reaps. They... _he_ doesn't trust easy. But once he does? Once you manage to break through his shell and earn his trust? You'll have the power to hurt him. A power he has trust in you to not abuse." Ink's voice cracked, but no blue fell down his cheeks. He was exhausted. Empty of tears, yet still full of sorrow. "But that's just what I did. I fucked him over, Reaper. _And he'll never forgive me for it."_ Ink smiled as if his mouth were full of glass shards. "But it's worse, isn't it...? I'm the Protector of the AUs. I'm the _Protector_, Reaps, and I killed Red.... it's... heh, the more I say it out loud, the dumber it sounds. It just doesn't sound real. Like Muffet. I... _I did that._ I didn't stop it, I fucking _helped."_

"To protect Geno-" 

"Was it, though? What's torturing and killing her got to do with Geno? What does _Red_ have to do with Geno?" Ink gripped the cushions tighter, whispering, "She _seriously_ didn't know anything Reaps. It was just for their entertainment. And Red? Stars... I-" Ink shut his sockets, focusing back on the dull pains and fear from Geno instead of his memories of Red's death. 

_He's... is he trying to over protect...?_

Trembling hands cupped Ink's face. At first, he startled and jerked back, but when Reaper slowly pressed forward to regain his hold, Ink didn't move. _Have Reaper's hands always felt this cool...?_ It felt nice. A cold compress to soothe the feverish bone Ink hadn't realized he had. 

"Everything we do has to do with Geno, Ink," Reaper whispered, tone soft and sweet yet so, so sad. "He's Nightmare's leverage. The largest mistake, the smallest failure... anything can take him from us, sweetie."

_I know...! That's... that's why I'm keeping him safe!_ That was why Ink was protecting him, so that Geno wouldn't have to suffer the fallout of Ink's own failures. "R-Reaps..."

"What you've been forced to do isn't fair, hon. To you, to the friends you hurt..." An old pain entered Reaper's gaze. An ancient, everlasting sorrow that spoke of many tears once cried. "Take it from me, honey... Sometimes, fate forces us into doing terrible things. It doesn't seem fair and it's definitely not right... but there's no other option. No choice that doesn't end with consequence. For us, Geno is that consequence if we don't comply."

_"Reaps... he likes creepy things. Funeral practices, death rituals... he finds it fascinating. His job though? What he is? I don't think there's another person out there that hates death more than Death himself, Ink." Eyes sad, Geno ran his fingers over the god in question's cheek. Sound asleep with his head cushioned in the glitch's lap, Reaper didn't even move; dark magic burned beneath his sockets telling of his exhaustion. "He hates his job, but going too long without reaping hurts him, Ink. He doesn't have a choice but to continue."_

Reaper's voice broke Ink out of the memory. "If you had a choice, you wouldn't be doing the things you are, Ink. You wouldn't have hurt anyone if Geno hadn't been in danger." His voice was firm with belief. 

And sad with _experience._

Ink reached up, gently covering Reaper's hands with his own. He... didn't believe in himself as highly as Reaper seemed to. But he also had never been in a position where he was forced to... _comply_ to someone else's wishes. Nightmare wanted members. More _toys_ to call his own. But he wasn't afraid to break them. 

Ink didn't know how to obey. He didn't know how his powers worked. He didn't know how to protect his husbands from any of this. He didn't know what Reaper was going through. Or what Error or Cross were going through. Or what his other family members were going through. 

He knew how to use more weapons than he could name. He knew he was _useful_ and _interesting_. He knew what others felt, for better or worse. _He knew how to pretend..._

But he couldn't trust Nightmare to uphold any deal that Cross was talking about. 

_This whole ordeal was proof of that...._

Rubbing Reaper's hands with his own thumbs, Ink murmured, "How are you doing, Reaps....?"

Reaper pulled his hands free in order to relocate so that he sat next to Ink. Since the artist seemed okay with touch, he leaned his weight into Ink’s side; first, hesitantly and then with more certainty when he wasn’t turned away. “I’m...”

_A brush of teeth against his cheek. “You sing so beautifully. I wonder what other lovely sounds you’d make for me...”_

_Reaper shuddered but didn’t stop his song. “How do I get to heaven... Without changing a part of me... how do I—“_

_Teeth sank into his neck, turning his song into a startled, pained yelp._

_Nightmare teeth didn’t release him when he smirked._

Quietly, Reaper tried not to think about the indents hidden beneath his collar. “...I could be better...”

Arms encircled the god, and he was brought further into the empath's warmth. If Ink wasn't so focused on all of Geno, he probably would've felt the irritation and shame centered around those marks. Maybe even the light throb from the forming bruise. Instead, he tilted over, laying down with Reaper in his arms. Softly, sleepily, he admitted, "I don't know what I'm doing, but... but somehow, I'm gonna get us out. I... h-have to put hope somewhere..." he gripped Reaper tighter. "I d-don't want you guys h-hurt o-or..." Ink grit his teeth against the feeling of Nightmare's grin on him. 

Phantom from Geno, memory from that celebration so long ago. He shuddered and rested his head on Reaper's. _I'm going to get you guys out... I... I **need** to get us all home..._

Reaper went boneless against Ink, more desperate for the comfort than he cared to admit. “Just... be safe, hon. Be _smart_, please. When the day comes for us to leave, I’d like you in one piece, too.” _Don’t tear yourself to pieces trying to protect us._

The artist didn’t respond. Instead, he merely held Reaper tighter and let his eyes drift shut. _Don’t drop the connection, don’t drop the connection..._ He was tired, but he wouldn’t sleep until he was sure Geno would remain safe.

Hypocritically, he rubbed Reaper’s back and murmured, “Try to get some rest, hon. You could use a nap before dinner.”

Reaper nodded and shut his eyes. 

Later, when he awoke, Ink would still be awake to greet him.


	21. Undernovela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 'gifts' are exchanged. Mostly.

Ink did a great job of tricking his husbands. Eat? Easy. He needed the energy to continue the connection with Geno. And the healing bonuses from Horror’s special food didn’t hurt. Train? Easy. A subtle way to release some of the anger he felt when Nightmare’s phantom touches reached places on Geno that Ink couldn’t tolerate. Though there were moments Ink slipped and got himself injured, he didn’t let that stop him. 

Sleep? 

Well, what’s so hard about laying down with your eyes closed until the others dozed off? It isn’t like they were empaths. They wouldn’t know. The magic burned under his eyes could easily be mistaken for the stress and anger, right?

It was about… a month of that? No big missions. No family dinners. No real orders from Nightmare. At least, nothing involving the trio of husbands that were together. Just, haha, Cross-training on different weapons, food and sleep. 

Until Cross came in with a somber hint to his expressionlessness. “Ink, Boss would like you to meet with him right now.” 

Ink looked up at him, frowning. “Just me?” 

“Yes.” 

“...as I am right now?” 

“Don’t make him wait, Ink…” Cross sighed. “What you’re wearing now is fine. Let’s go.” 

The artist allowed himself the luxury of checking over his husbands. _Why just me…?_

_Guess we’ll find out._

“Don’t piss him off, Inky,” Error warned. 

He glanced away. _He shouldn’t have pissed **me** off…._ “I’ll try not to, Ru.... be safe you two.” 

The first thing Nightmare said was, "Huh, your clothes are wrinkled."

Ink kept his gaze on the ground. "I slept in them."

Nightmare's gaze bore into him. "Look at me." 

_I don't want to I don't want to I don't-_ He did. _Geno isn’t here…_ and Nightmare was expressionless. "You're not going to be wearing all that will you? Dust tends to _kick up_ everywhere." 

_What the fuck....? No comments about my husbands? No innuendos about sex? Or heat? Or anything? Not even a question about how "comfortable" we were?_

_...dust…?_

"Are you..." Ink narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't get a solid read on Nightmare's emotions. "Are you wanting me to strip...?" _Like what you’ve forced Geno through for the past fucking **month**…?!_ Cross covered his choke with clearing his throat and glancing away, but both skeletons ignored him. 

Nightmare shrugged. "You could do that if it _pleases_ you," he smirked, "or you could accept a gift from me." 

Ice dropped down Ink's spine. "A gift."

"You don't look very enthused." Nightmare noted. "Not a fan of gifts, Ink? "

"...No," Ink lied.

Nightmare smiled. "I'll admit, neither was I. Gifts are usually linked with surprises and I don't tend to enjoy those. And yet," his smile grew, "I was simply elated when I found out the surprise Gen had for me. I never gave much thought into it, but an heir doesn't sound too bad, does it? It's the best _gift_ Geno could have given me."

Cross tensed slightly. He had anticipated Nightmare would know, but-

"Did you think I didn't notice just how buddy-buddy my loyal second has been with you? Did you think me blind to the lack of that brilliant, hateful anger towards him? Clearly, the truth has slipped, so why deny that the children are **mine**?"

The ice weighing him down swiftly raised to the artist’s eyes, turning his meek stare glacial. 

"Nothing to say?" Nightmare teased, amused at his frigid, angry silence. "That's okay, Inky. It takes time for new members to settle in and get comfortable, though I would’ve expected two months to be more than enough time for you. That being said, I really _must_ insist you accept my gift, even if you don't like them. Think of it as a… late ‘welcome home’ present. Cross."

Bowing his head respectfully, Cross disappeared behind the throne Nightmare lounged in only to quickly reappear with a bag in his hands. "Here," he held the bag out to Ink, "a change of clothes."

_It's just clothes...?_ Ink peered into the bag.

White.

Nothing but white.

He was going to be sick. He glanced up at Nightmare, who raised an eyebrow. 

"...if your concern is with my clothes getting sullied, I'm almost certain the white would show it more." Ink's hands shook with the effort to be civil. _Don't anger him, don't hurt Geno more...!_ "Surely you have something... else?" _Like giving Geno back?!_

"You don't like my gift?" 

Ink bit his tongue. _It's just clothes... it's fine..._ He took the bag, but his nausea just increased. "N-no it's great. I'll be back-" 

"You can change right here," Nightmare's eye glittered. "We wouldn't want any _accidents_ to happen on your new clothes so soon, would we?" 

Shaking now more noticeable, Ink pulled the first article of clothes out. A pair of white pants with dark stitching. The second was a white long-sleeve shirt, also with dark stitching. There was a pair of white knee-high socks with "dark side" stitched on the toes that matched the white underwear with the same saying around the band. (Ink had to stop himself from rolling his lights at them). And finally, a pair of white leather boots that covered the ankle. Ink thought as he started peeling off his wrinkled nightwear.

Nightmare's eye never left him once. Quite the contrary. Once Ink stood before him, nearly nude, the heavy burden of that singular gaze grew alongside the intensity in Nightmare's eye.

"One last thing to remove, Inky." Nightmare purred, a warped pleasure all around. And… _embarrassment?_

Despite his mind screaming at him not to, Ink glanced up. 

Nightmare was watching him without shame.

_Cross_ was looking away.

"Go on," Nightmare pushed, "finish up or else you'll be late for your mission."

Eyes dropping back to the floor, Ink silently let his underwear drop, his nudity instantly instilling a sense of discomfort within him. Not that he was ashamed of himself, it was more… the audience. And the loud drawn-out whistle Nightmare made didn't help.

"I'm a little disappointed you're all bones and no flesh. Your body is so interesting, Inky, what with those tattoos. I bet your ecto would be too. Soft I imagine, like Geno's." 

Anger and fear made his hands shake as he slid into the underwear provided for him, quickly following them up with the pants. _Hurry up_, he urged himself, _hurry._

Nightmare continued speaking when he began struggling with the shirt and socks. "You know, I was actually surprised just how soft Geno was. I thought those injured ribs would be rougher. Turns out, his scars don't spread to his ecto."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up,_ His shirt was on backwards. Quickly, he tore it off.

"Well, that nasty scar of his does. It would have been a shame with the way it mars his pretty skin, but the mark is surprisingly _sensitive_. Did you know that?"

"I'm done." Ink murmured, barely keeping himself from snapping at the smirking skeleton. "I...I'm ready to go."

_I know. I know, you fucking asshole. I know he’s sensitive there. I know you’ve searched out nearly all of his sensitive spots. I know you’ve made out with him every single fucking night, pretending to be us._

_And I know that’s not the wildest thing you’d do to him..._

Nightmare stood up and walked closer. Ink forced himself to not move, but the closer the lord got, the more suffocating his gloating was. "You're ready to go, huh?" 

Ink stared straight ahead. "You have a mission for me? I’m ready." 

"Straight to business, huh? No foreplay?" Nightmare glanced to Cross. "Do you think Error would like to join him? Course, I would want the artist to do this himself..." 

Cross just barely stopped himself from fidgeting. _So… even the Second doesn’t know what this mission is?_

Ink should be scared right? Probably. 

"Huh..." Nightmare murmured. "Yeah, I think I do want you to do this yourself…” He was standing behind Ink now. “And I think I’ll let him watch you destroy your very first AU. Well..." he grinned, “The _real_ you, I mean. Endure has believed you a destroyer for months now.” 

Ink flinched, more from the hand now touching his spine between his shoulder blades than this new bit of information. The hand trailed down his spine. 

"Oh so you _can_ see the tattoos through your shirt," it was more of a soft observation. Somewhat indifferent, somewhat a note to himself. “This scar’s from your best friend Red, isn’t it?” the fingers massaged the scar on his back, prodding into it as if to evoke those poor memories. When Ink didn’t answer, Nightmare stepped back into his view again. He didn’t remove his hand from his lower back, which had the artist tensing more. _Too close, too close, too close- yet I can’t feel anything from him…?_ "Your task is to destroy at least a third of Undernovela, but if you’re feeling up for it, you can destroy a little more. Just don’t completely erase it."

Quickly, Ink checked on his connection with Geno. _Distant, but still strong… would it survive us being separated between two AUs….?_

White.

So much white Ink nearly panicked, thinking he was back in the overwhelmingly blank anti-void until the skeevy hues from Nightmare broke through it.

_Oh,_ he thought numbly, _that's just **my** feelings._

Shock.

Sickness.

Mourning.

They were all white.

A burst of dark red soiled it, like blood dripping onto paper. He hated those emotions. He hated those too pale non-colors just like he hated the thumb rubbing at his iliac crest and the _disgusting_ instinctual pleasure he felt from it. _He’s touched Geno worse. He’s- I’ve felt him fondling-_

Most of all, he hated the skeleton that thumb belonged to and the way Nightmare was smirking at him, the knowing expression on his face telling Ink he could probably sense the hatred himself.

"What's wrong, Inky? Afraid Error won't forgive you?" Slowly, Nightmare's hand slid around, tracing the bones forming his hips until his hand rested near dangerously intimate territory. "It'll be okay. I'm sure you'll find a way to," a finger dipped lower, _"make it up to him."_

"Boss," Cross murmured, voice quiet but enough to draw Nightmare's sharp stare, "Ink and I need to go. Killer and Horror went ahead, remember? There won't be anything left if we wait."

Nightmare scowled, "Very well."

Ink released a breath when Nightmare stepped away.

Cross drew his knife, ripping open the portal that led to Undernovela. Ink started to walk through, hearing Nightmare's voice echo, "Don't disappoint me, my dear friend." Ink and Cross stepped through, and the portal thankfully closed behind them. 

For a wild, terrifying moment, it felt like the connection with Geno was severed. Desperately, Ink dug into himself to search out the colors that were so similar to his own, but _weren’t._

_There._

…They’re still connected-

Ink turned and vomited. The dark colors instantly stained the front of his shirt, and the anxiety and the white of his emotions instantly faded slightly. Wiping his mouth, he murmured thanks to Cross. 

"Don't," The word was bitter. Cross looked away. "Please don't..." 

Ink studied his expression, tried to get a read on him, but his emotions were too well guarded. "S-so... Killer and Horror huh... again..." 

Cross pointed them out, before glancing back to Ink. "Are you even able to destroy an AU?" 

Memories of Aftertale and it’s destruction cropped up in Ink’s mind. The pain, the deaths, the fear… _I don’t know..._ Instead of answering, the artist brandished Broomy and a sorrowful expression and muttered, "To protect my family…? I will try." He marched over to where Killer and Horror were, his eye lights flashing to the infamously scary, angry red targets.

"Wow," Killer grinned, "pretty awesome to have that creepy ass stare on our side."

Ink ignored him, his blank expression and black smeared neutral smile unnerving as he stalked past the two skeletons.

"He eat something bad?" Horror questioned, head tilted and blown red eye light on Ink's back.

Killer's previous smile dropped. "Guess Nighty hasn't broken that attitude yet. If he wasn't holding it, I'd think that dumb paintbrush was up his ass."

"Enough," Cross growled, staring at the two coldly. "You have your missions, so go."

Horror leaned on his axe, watching the skeleton walk towards the center of town. "Nah, I wanna see how the artist erases these places. Heh, how much was it supposed to be again?" 

Killer glanced at Cross with narrowed sockets. "Aww, you want him to stick his paintbrush up _your_ ass?” 

To his credit, Cross wasn't flustered or angered any more. On the outside. Ink felt the way his soul jumped and was forced back into indifference. "Go." 

Killer smirked, nudging Horror. "C'mon, before Cross tattles on us." 

"Don't get in my way," Ink muttered. A shot at bravado. 

He stepped into the clearing where Undyne and Alphys were having their wedding. _Oh, so it's a rerun..._ They had just kissed, and the celebration was on. 

Until they noticed the strange skeleton walking up the aisle toward the brides, armed with an oversized paintbrush. 

_Numb yourself, numb yourself, ignore them, ignore the surprise, numb yourself...!_

Ink leapt the last two steps and slashed his brush across the brides, the ink instantly wrapping them together and dropping them to the floor. He turned towards the gathered crowd, trying to ignore the rising white panic. He slashed towards the angry red, this time. Dusting the resident Asgore and Sans with one blow. 

The pain hit him instantly, but he was ready for it. Distantly, it was familiar... He ignored it. 

Cross, Killer and Horror paused their own tasks and gawked.

"Holy shit..." Killer whispered, stunned. Then, he grinned, wide and excited. "Holy _shit!_ You know, I heard about what happened with that Underfell Sans, but it’s so much more fun to watch him in action! You should be glad," he threw the scarred skeleton a smirk, "it seems he knows how to work that paintbrush in ways that benefit us. Bet you he knows how to use it in a way that'll benefit _you."_

Cross didn't bother glaring at him. Killer would only count it as a victory. "I won't repeat myself again," he lifted his blade, _"go."_

"You're no fun anymore," Killer complained. "Not since Error finally came slinking back with his toys. C'mon, Horror. Let's go find you some snacks."

"The brides look good. I like fishsticks."

"Nah, we shouldn't finish the artist's work. Let's go track down some dog."

They better hurry.

Ink didn't look like he planned on stopping anytime soon.

_He's not even flinching..._ Cross observed, frowning. _He was a wreck after Red… is it because he’s not friends with any of them…?_

Every time Ink felt the red flare up, he slashed his brush. He imagined it was his emotions he was killing instead of the residents of Undernovela. His hatred of Nightmare and of the situations his husbands were in was strong. But his self-hatred was stronger. It blinded him to the suffering around him, though he felt each and every death as if it were his own. 

Over and over, he killed himself. He killed just enough of the people there to sate Nightmare’s requirements, knowing Killer and Horror were going to go crazy. He stared at the rest of the guests, too terrified of him to move out of his way. 

"INK!" 

Something stroked down his arms then. Down his arms, wrapping around his waist. He was between someone’s legs too, and- Geno… _Nightmare’s holding Geno in his lap._

The artist froze. That voice-! _No... no, it's… please not Dream...! I’m not ready…_ He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Dream perched on a rooftop with his bow and arrow pointed at him. _Shit... Dream watches Undernovela too-_ and that's when it hit Ink. 

Of **course**, Nightmare would send him here. Everybody loved this AU and the drama it exuded. And Ink didn’t even question it. Didn’t question that this was basically the only AU that was televised across the whole multiverse. Almost certainly, Nightmare was watching.

Error and Reaper were probably watching too… 

_It’s just a task. A task that, if he succeeded in, maybe he’d earn Geno back._

_It’s just a new role I have to play._

"Ink, stop it!" Dream cried out, "This isn't you!" 

_He won't shoot._ Ink straightened his spine. _He won't._ He turned to face his best friend. His _boyfriend. He won't hurt me, even though I did this._

_Did you get the note…? Do you understand what’s going on Dream…?_

The fear and betrayal in Dream's soul hurt worse than any physical wound the guardian could give the artist. But… there was an understanding there. A… resignation, but overpowering it? Hope. _Dream, you still haven’t given up…?_ The fear of the crowd thickened, and they started backing away. 

"Ink, _why?!"_

"...I need to," the words were soft. Maybe nobody heard them. Maybe everyone did. It didn't matter. Ink glanced to where Killer and Horror had just killed and eaten a few dogs. "HEY! We're going." 

Horror grumbled, "Great, we've got another order snapper...." he stood, slurping from the severed head of a Greater Dog and followed Killer to Cross, who opened a portal. 

"No!" Dream tensed up, trying to figure out who to aim at. "Don't! I'll shoot!" 

"You won't." Ink turned and walked back to the others. He waited, hoped, prayed for Dream to do it. _Do it! Maybe I can use your positivity and get us out faster..._ **Just do it!!**

But when Ink reached the others, and there still wasn't an arrow in his back, he turned to Dream. They exchanged gazes, one fearful and panicking. The other, tinted red to hide the screaming artist on the inside, but otherwise unreadable. Ink inclined his head slightly and stepped through. The portal closed before the arrow could reach them.

They were welcomed back with clapping. Slow and evenly placed, the sound was a mockery of a true enthusiastic applause. 

Resting in the king’s lap was Geno. 

"Well, well," Nightmare smirked, "that was quite a show, boys. I particularly enjoyed the look of terror on the smaller bride’s face. I think she actually soiled that lovely dress of hers," his eye sharpened. "Just like _you_ soiled your gift, Ink. I'm disappointed."

Ink gripped his brush tighter. _No, no...! Nightmare wouldn't punish him just for that, would he? Not when- oh._

He knew what he had to do. How to distract Nightmare.

Steeling himself, he met Nightmare's gaze with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Personally, I enjoyed Dream's indecision on whether or not to shoot me. Tell me," his SOUL pounded, "did he shoot?"

Amusement gleamed in Nightmare's eye, "He did. Killer, Horror."

"Yeah, Nighty?"

"Boss?"

"Help me out here, would you? How exactly does one go about bringing destruction to a world?"

Killer's grin darkened, "Oh, that's easy! You just gotta fuck things up enough that the code starts to break."

"Destroying buildings, taking out resources... get rid of the foundations of that world and it'll implode all on its own," Horror murmured. Begrudgingly, he added, "Error's the best at it. Knows how to get into everything quickly."

Nightmare hummed, thoughtful, "So, what you're saying is... murder alone is not destruction? That our dear artist failed?"

Ink's blood ran cold.

Horror grinned, "Heh, guess he did, Boss."

_No… that’s…_ “You always killed people too-” 

“Eh, that’s just the fun stuff,” Horror smirked.

Nightmare ran a tongue over his teeth, "Quite tasty. Imagine," he stage-whispered. "Just imagine it with me. Your world is breaking down. You just watched strangers burst through and kill your family members. Are you next? What about your world?" Nightmare smirked, "It's all so... delicious. Almost up to par with sweet Genocide."

To emphasize his point, Nightmare took Geno's skull between his hands and turned his head to share a quick yet passionate kiss. At the sensation of a tongue flicking against his teeth, Ink grit his grin as if able to bite through that disgusting slick muscle and felt the ice in his veins melt as his blood began to _boil._

_Stop it! Stop it you fucking-_

Killer groaned in disgust. "C'mon, Night. Seriously? You and Crossy are passing him around now?" Nasal cavity wrinkling, he scoffed and looked away. "I mean, you do you, Boss, but I rather not see this shit before dinner."

Horror, on the other hand, seemed interested; his gleaming eye watching curiously as Nightmare pulled away from his one-sided kiss. "Didn't know he was _that_ kinda doll." he murmured, chuckling a bit.

Ink turned brilliant targets onto Horror. _He isn't-!_

"Not so fast," Nightmare purred, sounding amused. "You haven't earned anything, my little empath. Go back to your room." 

Killer sneered, "You're grounding him?" 

"Heh, appears I am. Go on, Inky. I'll send Cross to retrieve you when I've decided. Go." He waved a hand at him. Ink's gaze landed on Geno, and Nightmare smirked, "You have your own doll in your room. Go on, now, Inky. Before my patience starts to wane." 

Ink glared at Nightmare, but turned and stormed back to his room. Still, nothing stopped Nightmare from trailing a hand to the back of his- of **Geno's** neck, and staying there, absently massaging the bones there.

_Better his filthy hand than another disgusting kiss,_ Ink thought, though he knew that 'better' was nothing more than a shitty consolation prize in this situation. 

'Better' was subjective, too. 

Fingers toying with Geno's nape were better than a tongue dancing with the glitch's. A hand resting on Geno's hip was better than a tendril snaking up his thigh. Running a hand over the dead-eyed skeleton's not yet swelled stomach was better than digging greedy fingers into the flesh of Geno's breast.

All of those things could be considered 'better.'

As Ink slammed open the door to his room, he viciously thought that the best thing Nightmare could do would be to just _fuck off_ already.

But it was _Nightmare._

Error and Reaper turned to stare at Ink again, both with horror in their eyes. How many people was that? How many people did he kill? 

"I failed," Ink spoke blandly, but his eye lights flashing through various dark symbols told the husbands his truer emotions. 

"Ink-?" 

Ink walked past them and up the stairs. Within the minute, they heard the bathroom door slam shut and the shower turn on.

The message was clear: _End of discussion._

Error didn't have it in him to be angry. Not this time. _Stars, Ink..._

A quiet click signalled Reaper shutting off the muted television. Watching Ink's actions had been painful, but viewing the aftermath was almost worse. Still, the two ended up forcing themselves to watch through it all. The silenced sobbing, the broken-hearted expressions from the lost lives and ruined wedding... 

_I used to do that..._ Error realized at one point. _I... fuck, that used to be me._ Unlike Ink, he had never been forced. 

So very, very much unlike his good, _kind_ husband, Error used to _laugh_ as he ruined lives. 

It made watching everything so much worse for him. Curled up around him while they watched, Reaper's own baggage had the god trembling while a headache rolled around in his skull. Still, neither looked away.

They couldn't, really. Until Ink barged in, neither could bring themselves to tear their eyes away from the site of their horror-stricken boyfriend; Dream's smile sad and eyes sadder as he did what he could to aid those left alive.

Reaper turned to Error, murmuring, "What are we going to do...?" 

"I don't know." Error dropped his head into his hands. _Stars, he didn't know..._ "We can try to ask later..." he fidgeted nervously. "But... but if he failed, what's the punishment...?" 

Reaper shut his eyes before looking over to him. "Is he still connected to Geno...?" 

Error stared. "I don't know."

Smile an unconvincing, fragile thing, the god settled down next to Error. At the sight of the destroyer tensing, he was quick to scoot back a few paces to give Error the room he required. "Be honest with me, Ru. Please? Do... do you think Ink stopped?" Quieter, he murmured, "Do you think he'd give up on _protecting_ Gen...?"

Put like that, the answer was clear. "No." _There's no way he would let up that connection. Not if, in his head, it means giving up on keeping Geno safe._

Sharing a tired, worried look, the two turned their gazes to the stairs. The shower was still going. Knowing Ink's habits, that shower would keep going until the artist deemed it time to come back down.

"Should we try to talk to him...?" Reaper questioned.

Error's shoulders drooped with resigned defeat. "Do _you_ think he'll actually listen to anything we have to say? I love him, Reaps. _We_ love him, but Inky... fuck, if he really hasn't dropped the connection this entire last month, then anything we say is just going to go ignored."

"What about Undernovela? _What about Dream?"_

"...Reaps, he ran passed us. If he wanted to talk about it, if he wanted to let us see him cry, then Ink would be down here _now."_ Error curled his hand around the bracelet in his pocket, holding it tightly. "Look, I... I don't know what to do, hon. What to say, how to react... fuck, I don't have the first idea how to even go about making him _smile_ anymore." A real smile, not the poor excuses at happiness Ink had been giving them throughout the last few weeks. "...I don't know how to get him to let us in anymore..."

Reaper clasped his hands together, and stared down at the floor. "Ru... um, do you think... do you think he's trying to protect us...? By.. by not talking to us?" 

"Tch, knowing him... that's probably his exact thought process." Error leaned back in the couch and groaned. "I guess I'll start making some food for us..." 

Reaper reached for him but stopped and shoved his fists into his pockets. "Um... y-yeah... yeah, I'll..." he glanced around the room, uncertainly. "....I... don't know what to do..." 

Error stood and started heading to the kitchen. "Help me by cutting up some vegetables?" 

"Yeah... heh, I can do that..."


	22. Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a little bit of conversation is exchanged and a dinner for ten takes place.

Nearing dinnertime, there was a sharp three knocks on the door. Reaper walked over and opened the door, letting Cross in. 

Cross glanced around, seeing Error washing dishes in the kitchen and a wrapped plate sitting on the counter. No Ink in sight. Regretfully, he murmured. "So... there's to be a family dinner tonight. You and Reaper will be attending." 

"What about Ink?" 

"Ink's... grounded, until Nightmare says otherwise." 

Error glanced over. "Grounded?" 

"He's not to leave..." Cross gestured vaguely to the pseudo-house, "here. But the two of you are expected to arrive to dinner. Business casual."

Reaper's tense, neutral smile dropped into a frown. "...He's making us leave Ink alone?" That was the last thing Reaper wanted to do. Sure, Ink went straight into their bedroom after his shower, but that type of isolation was by choice. This? _Nightmare's taking away the option of comfort..._ Only for a bit, yes, but it still didn't sit well with him.

The unease Error was trying to hide proved he felt the same way. "Take a seat, Rookie. You can stay here until it's time to get ready."

Regretfully, the second shook his head. "I can't. Nightmare..." he hesitated.

Error's gaze sharpened. "What about Nightmare?" _What is that asshole doing now?_

"...He wants a second opinion." Cross said after a long, tense moment of silence. Informing them of his assigned duty for the evening would anger them, but so would keeping quiet. It was a lose-lose situation. With a quiet sigh, he met their gazes with a slightly wavering stare, decision made. When he spoke, it was with the tone of someone paraphrasing another, "Since I've been spending so much time with my new and newly returned friends, I _must_ know their taste." His voice returned to normal, but he was resigned. "Nightmare wants me to help select an outfit for Geno today. One you two will find 'tasteful,' he said."

Error muttered to himself and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Gritting his teeth, he murmured, "So, that's the kinda game he's playing tonight...." 

Reaper looked between the two. "Um... Cross how much time do we have?" 

"An hour." 

"We'll see you there," Error slid his gaze to Cross. 

His Rookie stared back. _No orders? No pleas? No... requests?_ "Okay." With a nod, Cross turned and left. 

Error looked up to Reaper. "Come on, let's try and talk to our idiot before dinner." 

Reaper looked uncertain. "Would he..?" 

"Either it's gonna be a conversation, or it's gonna be you and me talking at him. Either way, words are going to be given to him, and if he responds or not is a different story." Error headed up the stairs. "Let's go."

Footsteps signaled Reaper following closely behind. Briefly, Error considered the many possible meanings hidden behind the sound. Walking... it was a simple thing, but something uncommon when it came to Reaper. _He hasn't been hovering lately..._ Not since his private missions with Nightmare began. 

Another concern, born from Nightmare's treatment of his family....

_Fuck, I'm tired._ But Error didn't have time to rest. Even if he did, sleep wouldn't have come easily. _Just... keep an eye on him..._ Error knew which worrying signs to look out for. He couldn't stop everything Nightmare did, but... fuck, he wouldn't let things get too far.

Somehow, he'd protect his husbands from the hell he lived through.

"Ink?" he called, pushing open the bedroom door. The lights were off, but his eyes were quick to adjust and easily found the figure curled up in bed. "Reaps and I cooked that nasty tofu of yours, hon. It's downstairs on the table. We'd eat with you but..." _Don't hesitate. Just get it done fast, like ripping off a band-aid,_ "...Reaps and I were just ordered to attend a group dinner. You have your own orders to remain here, within our rooms."

"I know." 

Error took in a slow breath. _Alright... I'm doin' this._ He walked over and sat down by the bed, gently resting his hand on Ink's thankfully covered shoulder. "Inky-"

"He's testing clothes on him again." 

Reaper tensed. _"Nightmare wants me to help select an outfit for Geno today..."_ That's what Cross had told him. But... again...? 

Error grit his teeth. Another try to ask wouldn't hurt right? "Ink, please let go of that connection between-" 

"No." 

"What are you trying to prove?! That you're good at wasting your power? That you're better at-"

"I **killed** more people, Error. I know you two were watching." He moved away from his hands. "I did it because I thought that's how you used to destroy AUs. The thing with R-Red...?" his voice dropped. "I was trying to protect you, Error. I'm..." he shrunk in on himself a little more. "Just... you should get ready for the dinner. Bet he's gonna keep you two there for a while." 

Softly, Reaper spoke, "And you're gonna let us leave...? You're not even going to... to _look_ at us...?"

Ink had nothing to say to him. Well no, that wasn't quite right. Ink had a lot to say; more thoughts jammed inside his head than he knew what to do with.

None of those thoughts would comfort his husbands. 

Nothing that ran through his head was anything Ink was willing to share.

So with a heart weighed by what Ink assumed was regret, the artist merely rolled over to face away and curl up tight beneath the blanket. Behind him, Reaper's sadness spiked.

With it, Ink's stifling guilt grew. _I'm sorry, Reaps. I... I'm sor-_

Strings laced around Ink's arms, yanking until he was forced up on the bed. With fury in his eyes, Error cut the connection between them but didn't let Ink return to hiding. Instead, he carefully stepped around Reaper and began a mad crawl across the bed. Not too close to Ink to touch, but close enough. 

"No." He growled. "No- none of this bullshit, damnit! Y...you don't want t-t-to talk to us? Fine. You don't want to l-listen to us? _F-fine!_ But... but we are yOuR _h-husbands_, damnit. Y...y-y...y-y..." Fuck. _**Fuck!**_ He couldn't-! Clenching his eyes shut tight, Error tried to force it. "Y..._y-yo..."_ His attempts ended with a whine. 

_Pull it together, pull it together...!_ Error couldn't leave it like this. Fuck, he wasn't going to march straight to hell without a goodbye from his husband.

Ink couldn't look at Error. Couldn't bring himself to match the expression with the colors he's feeling. _I'm upsetting them. I'm upsetting them by protecting Geno..._ He hunched over slightly. _What I feel... they're going to see... but... but Geno won't have to feel it too..._

Error growled with frustration and ripped his strings down just to tear at them. Reaper walked closer and sat in front of Ink. "We're your husbands, and you are ours, Ink," Reaper murmured. "We work better as a team. _Together,_ okay? And it's... not easy if you don't talk to us-" 

"You haven't talked to us either, honey," Ink slowly looked up and met Reaper's gaze, though his own eyes were... blank? "Nobody's been saying anything... not about any potential bruises or fears... we're all just... shoving it down." He glanced to Error. "All of us." He looked down again.

Silence. 

Error, unable to shape the words he so desperate wanted to share added to it. Ink, tormented by phantom sensations and discomforting thoughts added to it as well. Reaper...

Reaper broke it with quiet, ashamed admission, "...He keeps biting me..." 

Eyes averted from the gazes that jumped to his face, the god flushed in humiliation and hooked two fingers in the collar of his clothing. With a sharp tug, he brought his hand down and pulled until the fabric dipped under the strain; revealing to his husbands the imprint of teeth previously hidden near the back of his neck.

No cyan filled the grooves. There was no color at all, actually... No inflamed magic or anything else to hint at irritation. There was just... bone. Ivory white with a hint of gray around the bitemarks.

_It was a **scar.**_

Reaper didn't meet their eyes. "He does it again at the end of very 'mission' with him. Says that collaring birds doesn't make much sense, so that this would have to do instead...." It was hard, but he forced himself to look at them when the silence began to weigh on his shoulders. "There's more, but we don't have time for all that now. Still, I talked. I said something." _So will you do the same? Please...?_

With Error still unable to speak, it was on Ink. _He's claiming us, one by one..._ So, the artist looked down and... tried. "My... connection with Geno...? It's... I'm pulling everything to myself. But... but what if I could push something to him...? Comfort him, maybe...?" He frowned. "But I've been thinking... Dream and Nightmare," Error and Reaper flinched slightly, but Ink kept going, "They know how this empathy thing works. I... I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just... I'm scared to let the connection go. I'm scared that he's just going to continue to abuse Geno. I'm scared to try and comfort Geno, and have Nightmare there to fuck with the connection." He gripped his arms tighter. "I ripped everything from Gen, and I'm scared that the whiplash of giving it all back will be worse than taking it in the first place." 

_It... nothing about the murders...? Wasn't he upset about that too? Or... or maybe this was the more pressing thing on his mind...?_

Ink murmured, "And of course my failure," his voice lost emotions, "Tch, apparently killing the residents doesn't destroy the AU. Didn't know that and apparently failed. I'm just a murderer now. But don't worry too much, I won't leave here..."

Too much to discuss, not enough time to do so...

In place of Error, Reaper stepped forward and outstretched a hand to Ink; offering him the choice on whether or not to take it. Seconds akin to lifetimes passed before the artist accepted his hand, but the hesitation didn't change the fact that Ink _did_ accept the touch.

Gently, Reaper laced their fingers together. "Try to eat, Inky... For yourself, or even if just for Geno... eat, if you can manage it." Born from the pink within him that always stubbornly remained, the god smiled. It was a small thing that wavered around the edges, but near bursting with affection. "Ru really did make tofu, you know? He drowned it in peanut sauce and stir-fry, but it came out pretty good. Even the burnt bits."

Hands trembling while his fingertips itched and burned, Error scoffed. It wasn't a mean and lacked any kind of anger. _My cooking is delicious,_ his husbands could practically hear him say.

Reaper chuckled weakly, "Try it, hon. Or... at least get out of this room for a bit? You have to stay in our quarters, but you could curl up downstairs and wait for us, if you want? Cross hid snacks way back in our cabinets..." A glance at the clock had Reaper sighing. _We have to get ready..._ With one last gentle squeeze, he let Ink's hand go. "Business casual..." he murmured. He still wasn't sure what the even meant.

Ink's hand wavered after Reaper's, even when the god was already to the closet. Slowly, he looked over to Error and reached for his hand. 

Error flinched away from him, gaze narrowed. _I can't touch you idiot._ So Ink dropped his hands, murmuring, "I'm sorry..." 

Reaper murmured, "Just... don't hide from us okay? At the very least, don't _lie_ to us." 

"I'll try." _That's all I can promise..._

Error sighed, but stood and followed Reaper to the closet door. Lacking anything else to add, the husbands prepared for the dinner. Reaper gave Ink a kiss. Seeing Error's dejected expression, he gave another to Ink. 

"...Be safe..." Ink whispered to them, watching them leave. 

Error lead Reaper to the dining room, seeing the other willing nightmares there.

And of course, no Nightmare... 

Sighing, the two made a beeline for the three seats they, alongside Ink, usually claimed for their own. There was always the chance of Nightmare mixing up the seating arrangements when he arrived but, for now, they selected a seat each for the wait they had ahead of them. _Who knows how long it'll be this time...?_

Nightmare was usually pretty quick when it came to these meals, but this time could be different. _Cross isn't here yet..._ Which meant that he might still be with Nightmare, helping the king of the castle play dress up and dolls with Geno. 

Error clicked his tongue in annoyance. _Fucking creep..._ Six years. Six years of a freedom he honesty thought would last and still Nightmare kept playing these games. The difference? It wasn't Error being dressed up this time around. Not the same as before, at least. No, this time... this time it was his brother.

_"Five years, Error." Teeth met his own in a quick, teasing kiss. Without pulling away too far, Nightmare continued murmuring to him their deal, "Five short years and then you're mine again. And oh, don't worry about keeping track, lover. See, I'll go and get you back when the time is right. One way or another..." Claws dug into his hips. "...you'll be back in my arms. Now then, why don't we get you out of these clothes and into the dress I selected for the last hurrah we'll have for the next few years?"_

Error forced his twitching, burning fingers to uncurl from the chair arms he was gripping. _It's my fault he's abusing Geno, damnit._ Error left. It didn't matter that Nightmare agreed to it. Error _left,_ and now his brother was paying for it. _Fuck, Ge, I'm sorry..._ because that's all he could offer; apologies. 

That, and some useless hope that Cross was keeping his brother's modesty in tact right now.

Killer glanced between Error and Reaper before murmuring loudly to Horror, "Too bad boss didn't _actually_ punish the artist. He's not going to learn anything by going without food tonight." 

Horror's own light studied the two husbands there with an empty smile. End frowned at Killer and Horror, but didn't make his own comments. Finally, Horror murmured, "Ya enjoy the show?" 

Error's and Reaper's jaws clenched slightly. 

"Because I did. Something about seeing it in person though was… _breath-taking._ Heh, it was certainly a _dream_ come true, though the ending kinda sucked. Woulda had more drama if that guardian's arrow actually _pierced_ the betrayer, wouldn't it? I certainly woulda been surprised." 

Though Error knew better than to take the bait, Reaper was still learning. "You done?" he narrowed his sockets on Horror. 

"Nah, I've got all sorts of constructive criticisms about this episode. I mean, the artist just looked like a psycho. Maybe he shoulda said somethin? Like... yell objection at the wedding. Take one of the brides and kiss them. _Then_ go on the killing spree. And if it ended with him injured 'cause of the guardian, well, that'd be a real nice cliffhanger."

Judging by the way Error's tongues felt heavy and knotted together, he knew he wouldn't be able to produce a response even if he wanted, though there's no real 'if' to question. Knowing that a response would only motivate the two assholes doesn't change the fact that he _wanted_ to snap back. He wanted to use every foul word he knew against them. 

Error wanted to _rage_, but he didn't. He fucking knew better.

He wouldn't, simply because he _couldn't._

Mistake of a response already made, Reaper had little restricting him from growling back, "You like cliffhangers, pal? Personally, I think they're a little overused, but I guess I can see the appeal. Only..." It was Horror's experience with Killer alone that made it possible to track the god's gaze as it slid to his lover. "...Well, shows like Undernovela are all about the _romantic_ drama, don't you think? Love triangles, lover's quarrels... that kind of stuff. If anything, the audience would probably be a _lot_ more interested in the way Killer was eyeing that Grillby. Heh, it was a pretty _heated_ gaze." Curiously, he tilted his head with a smile and asked, "Got a thing for fire, _Kills?"_

Error's eyes snapped to Reaper's in surprise. _Does he...?_ No, Reaper didn't know, did he? About the Star's ally with the broken, firey skull... The destroyer hid a grin. _He means Grillby, but that's not who Horror is gonna think of..._

As if to prove Error correct, a snarl settled on Horror's face when he caught sight of the small blush coloring Killer's cheek. "You're fucking Color?!"

Flustered yet indignant, Killer shouted back, "No, you big dumbass! I'm not-! I haven't spoken to him in years!"

"Then why're you _blushing?!"_

"I'm not!"

Surprise carefully hidden, Reaper blinked. _...Heh, guess I hit a sore spot..._ The vindictive part of him whispered a dark, nasty, _Good._

For once, Reaper didn't try to ignore it.

Their bickering kept getting louder until they both were standing with knives in their hands. 

And of course, that's when Nightmare, Cross and Geno made their appearances. 

Error sighed. _Just when it was getting good..._

"And what's going on here?" Nightmare's gaze settled on Killer and Horror with annoyance. "Starting dinner without your king is pretty rude, don't you think?" 

Horror clenched his fist around his knife before forcing his hand open. "Sorry boss," he murmured smoothly. 

Killer sat down, shooting Horror another frown. 

_A frown?_ Cross narrowed his sockets, glancing to the husbands. Neither of them showed any signs of what happened, but both looked over, gazes sweeping between Nightmare and Cross before settling on his outfit. 

_Stars, it looks like they were trying to compromise between modest and Nightmare's preference..._

Sure, the dress was _long_ enough, but the top exposed a lot more cleavage than they knew their husband would've been comfortable with, were he awake. 

And of course Ink was probably feeling the colder air on his chest. The tendrils that held Geno close to Nightmare when he sat in the chair Cross pulled out for him. Killer muttered, "Scared to eat with us without your dolly, Boss?" 

Cross paused just before he sat in his own chair to glance up at Killer. _What... what the hell...? _

Nightmare even looked closer at Killer, gaze flicking down to his forever-exposed SOUL. It should still be a target... 

It was looking a little more oblong than circular....

One by one, the others seated at the table took note of this fact. Reaper and Endure were two of the first to catch a glimpse at the soul but neither knew the important behind the shape. Error did, but his ability to speak his mind still had yet to return and all he could manage was a short, surprised intake of breath. And Horror...

At first, the forever-wounded skeleton refused to look the king's way simply because it would have meant having to see Killer. At the silence; however, curiosity got the better of him and he turned to face Nightmare; catching sight of Killer's soul as he did so.

For the first time ever, Reaper bore witness to the sight of Horror going ashen with _fear._ "K-Kills..." the violent skeleton rasped, overblown eyelight flickering to Nightmare _nervously_ before it returned to the dripping eyed skeleton. 

Error watched Killer glance down and gray with worry. "F-fuck," Killer hissed, arms coming up as if he were a woman attempting to conceal their chest. "Fuck, I-" Like Horror, he risked a glance at Nightmare before quickly looking away. To an unsure Reaper, he too looked afraid.

For Error, there was no uncertainty. _They're terrified_... and that terror moved the part of Error who used to call them allies, if not friends. 

The scars on his brother's face brutally drowned any sympathy he felt.

"...And to think I trusted you to remember your appointments with me..." Nightmare's smile was just slightly there. "Well, tonight's as good a night as any. _After_ dinner, of course." Nightmare scooted his chair closer, holding Geno closer. He glanced out at the rest of the members, seeming pleased to see that Ink wasn't there, and that Error and Reaper wore their business casual best. "Well then, dig in!" 

Everyone lifted their covers and began to eat. The first few minutes were spent in near silence, with Killer and Horror sending slight glances to each other. _As if to comfort the other,_ Reaper realized, noticing the action as something he and his husbands have done. _Stars... what is Nightmare going to do to them...?_ A glance to Geno and Reaper decided he didn't care. Maybe he would've. Maybe he _should_ have. But not anymore. 

"So," Nightmare smiled out at them. "We've got some new plans in store for us, don't we? Cross, how are the sparring sessions with them going?" 

It was thanks to years of experience that Cross was able to stop himself from accidentally inhaling his food. _We're seriously going to do progress reports right here...?_ He set his napkin down. "They're learning quickly." 

"And my empath?" 

Error's knuckles creaked against the silverware he held, but still, he said nothing. 

"The empath has proven his skill in every single weapon he's picked up." 

"Is that so? Good..." Nightmare cut out another bite for himself. "He will not be joining you for training tomorrow."

Cross didn't so much as blink in surprise, though the emotion was strong behind his barriers. "I see... may I ask why, my lord? He's proved himself quite useful when it comes to giving the other two a challenge. It's a shame to lose such a useful tool for my teachings."

Interest gleamed in Nightmare's eye for barely even a second. "I'm afraid he's being punished. See, twice now he's failed me. And after I worked so hard to correct this the first time around, too... It's such a shame to punish him, but I've decided that I simply cannot trust his ability to meet my expectations, so he'll be on a probation period of sorts until dear, lively Ink finally learns how to be as obedient as a well trained dog."

"Is there an estimate of how long that'll be? I'll need to know what lesson plans to remove him from." 

A tendril curled beneath the prominent curve of Geno's chest to tether him to Nightmare when the king of the castle reached around for a glass of wine. Thoughtfully, he swirled the near violet liquid within his glass before bringing it to his mouth for a taste. "Well, the length of Ink's absence is up to him, isn't it? But that's enough about work. Anymore talk of the empath will sour my mood. Go on, you all. Eat, drink... be merry." With another swirl, the king brought his glass up yet again.

What no one expected was for the king to press the glass to Geno's mouth instead.

Head tilted by a hand and supported by a tendril, Geno was coaxed into steadily draining nearly the entire glass before Nightmare pulled the wine away and swallowed all that remained himself. 

"Delicious..." he murmured, eyeing the red-violet trails that dripped from Geno's chin down to his chest; the glitch having been unable to take in all the wine Nightmare offered. With a heated gaze, he swiped a napkin from the table and set to cleaning Geno. Slowly, intimately... loitering at the end when there was no more wine to cleanse from his bosom. "Horror, excellent selection this night. Send Killer with a bottle for my private quarters when he arrives later for his... appointment. And Cross? Stop gawking at my doll."

Quickly, Cross clicked his mouth shut and scrambled for his usual mask. _What... what the actual hell was that?!_ Cross knew Nightmare didn't care for the child he forcefully sired. He... he _knew_ that, but... "My king, perhaps wine isn't the best substance for your toy?" _He's **pregnant**_, was what he actually wanted to say. Scream, really.

"He'll be fine," Nightmare ended the conversation there with a sharp look on his second. With Cross' silence, Nightmare slid his gaze to Error and Reaper, who've been surprisingly quiet this dinner. Perhaps it was the absence of their spunkier third that aided in the silence? 

Their hate was still trained on Nightmare, but neither of them met his gaze. Good. _Obedient_. As all of them should be towards their king. 

_Now... if he could just get his dear old friend to be... **subservient**_... Nightmare smiled to himself and poured another glass of wine. _Just a matter of time, after all._

For the rest of the dinner, nobody spoke unless Nightmare asked them something. The king still made casual, impolite touches to Geno the whole time, too. 

But _boy_ if the increased fear and hate didn't enhance every bite of his meal. Delicious! He took his napkin and touched it to his mouth before cleaning Geno's too. "I'm a little surprised. You all seemed so down tonight. Maybe I should give you all a family mission soon?" he smiled at Geno and wrapped his tendrils around the glitch just a little tighter. "Well, either way. You all know what's expected of you. Dismissed." 

Killer and Horror exchanged glances before disappearing into the kitchen. Endure started picking plates up. Cross walked over and pulled Nightmare's chair up, walking with him out the room, and Error and Reaper just barely kept themselves from bolting back to Ink. 

When they opened the door, they were only slightly surprised at the... _mess._

Paint and broken furniture were thrown _everywhere._ A tornado? An ambush? A _fight?_

But there's no one else here. 

"Ink?!" Reaper called out. "Inky?!" 

Error pulled his strings taut and shot them throughout the copycat house until- _there._

With his god on his heels, Error drew back his strings and appeared next to Ink- 

Curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, Ink trembled. 

_His... his ecto's formed...?_


	23. Buzzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn what’s up with Ink (hint: Not pregnancy).

What... what the hell? Why was- it didn't make sense! Everyone was accounted for at dinner, so no one would have been around to bother Ink. His first was a handsy asshole, but Ink wasn't one to- well, to put it plainly, Ink wasn't all that into masturbation. There was the possibility of heat, but Ink's lack of SOUL-

Error froze, heart a loud drumming in his nonexistent ears. _Fuck, but he isn't lacking a SOUL anymore, is he?_ Life's creation gifted Ink not just the ability to feel, but came with fucking superpowers. Regulating his magic into a heat cycle... It was possible, wasn't it? That Ink... fuck. _Fuck!_

Dropping to his knees, Error raked his eyes over his first husband's trembling form. Ecto... a bit of color in his face... but no pretty rainbow hue collecting at his joints. Shit, that wasn't very conclusive though. _Okay, fuck, what are the other signs?_ Error knew them. Hell, he knew them because _he_ experienced them, but his worry was making it hard to think. _Ecto, coloring... eyes? Scent?_ He couldn't see Ink's eyes because they were closed, but he didn't... smell?

Fuck, he didn't know what he was doing. "I-Inky? Honey, can... c-can you look at me?" he questioned in as soothing of a voice he could manage. Hovering over his shoulder, Reaper followed the question up with a soft, concerned croon of the artist's name. "Squid, please? We... we need to know what's wrong. Squid? Inky?"

Ink tightened his grip on himself, raising his head just enough to look at his husbands and see that there wasn't anyone else there. 

"...Who...?" The artist questioned after a long moment of near painful silence. Before either husband could answer, he curled forward with a whine that abruptly shifted into a growl "I... I'm gonna fucking m-murder that bastard... M'gonna murder him after... a-after ripping off his fucking roaming tendrils and... a-and d-deep frying them...!" A few tears dripped down his face, a thick, red-black mixture akin sludge, or the acrylics Ink sometimes used in his art. Blinking the strange mixture from his sockets, the artist squinted at them, slurring, "Can you two stop... duplicating...? I think m'gonna be sick..." A hiccup concluded his sentence, trailed by a burp. 

Reaper narrowed his sockets slowly. "...Inky are you...?" 

The empath in question glanced away, raising his head enough for his husbands to see the drunk flush on his cheeks. He tried to hide himself a little more, and they both realized the embarrassment in the action. "...I think m'buzzed...."

Buzzed, but not... not in heat. _Oh thank the fucking stars,_ Error thought, relieved. Then, the implications of Ink's words hit him. "Ink..." he began slowly, "You... you don't _get_ buzzed." The artist's ability to handle alcohol went beyond having a good tolerance. In fact, the closest Error had ever seen Ink get to reaching tipsy was the time the artist' mistook paint thinner for water.

_But... but if he's connected to Geno..._ Fuck. 

Judging by Reaper's cringe, his thoughts weren't too far from Error's. "Honey, are... are you experiencing _Geno's_ lack of tolerance because of your connection?" If so, then... then just how far did Ink's abilities go? What sense did they make for Ink to be experiencing the result of consuming alcohol that he himself never truly drank? "I thought it was strange he seemed unaffected..." but for the affects of something Geno took in to pass onto Ink...? _Stars, how strong is their connection?_

In the back of his head, a quiet voice murmured, _How strong is **Ink?**_

Ink smiled a little and leaned his head back. "Ge? Aww... I miss him. I... I miss him so much..." he rubbed his eyes, smearing his dark tears around his eyes. _I miss him so much._

_I've never been closer to him... and so far away at the same time..._

Ink shuddered, murmuring, "Wine isn't good for them... f-for either of them..." Slumping back against the wall, the artist sighed. After a moment, he frowned and looked around, patting at his torso with a worried expression. "Ru? Error, where're my paints...?" 

"Inky, you don't need your paints anymore, remember...?" 

"I want them." He glanced up to Reaper. "Reaps?" 

The god shook his head. "Your paints aren't here hon." 

Ink stared between them. _Oh... oh his lights are the same color as that wine..._ Error frowned more.

"Inky, I..." Trailing off, Error watched his husband with a worried expression. How did Ink's connection to the glitch even work? His first instinct was to offer the artist water, but would it even do anything to the alcohol Ink was feeling the effects of if it wasn't even in his own system? Sighing, he decided it was at least worth a try. "I'm going to get you a glass of water, Squid. I want you to drink it all, okay?"

Eyes drifting shut, Ink whined, "No... I want my paints, Ru..." He missed the flavor of yellow. It looked like such a sour color, but it was almost too sweet to handle. _Geno likes sweet things.._. Heh, maybe Ink could share with him? If not the flavor, then the intense joy a mouthful of lemon yellow could bring. _He deserves it. If my Geno is gonna feel anything, it should be nice things. The best things._

A cool glass was pressed into his hand. Opening his eyes, Ink stared down into the crystal clear liquid. _Not paint..._ He took a sip anyways, well aware of the concern that grew with every second he spent simply staring into the cup.

"Inky? Hon?" Symbols slid to look at Reaper. "Do you think you can walk? If not, want me to pick you up and move you to the sofa?" A pause. "...After we flip it back over?"

Ink stared at him for a moment longer before those lights slid to the side where the mess was... well everywhere. "Heh..." He took another sip from the glass and closed his eyes. "I guess that... that little _bitch_ is gonna be mad if he sees this," Ink snorted, "Heh, little... get it? 'Cause Nightmare... Nightmare is fucking _short._ Probably why he always makes us kneel and shit. I bet he... I..." Ink's gaze grew distant as he fell silent. Then, "I should probably clean up..." he smiled , "He was angry at dinner, wasn't he? Wouldn't wanna add to that. I mean, someone was already scared by... him? Or something? Heh, I just see the colors, not the reasons... but someone was definitely scared! I know 'cause I saw the white. I hate white though..." Ink whined. 

_Holy fuck..._ Error and Reaper exchanged glances. _He wasn't there. He wasn't at dinner with us. Which means..._

Ink drained the rest of the water from the glass before blindly feeling for the counter and hauling himself up. "I should clean up a bit... hope our guest doesn't mind." 

"Our guest-?" Reaper stopped when the familiar triple knock sounded on the door.

The god and destroyer shared a look. With a nod, the two split off; Error scooping Ink up in his arms and setting him down on a dining room chair that somehow made it's way into the living room while Reaper drifted away to open the door for Cross.

At the sight of the mess, the scarred second faltered; mouth half open with all the words he planned to say but could no longer remember. "...What the hell happened here?" He finally got out. His words weren't meant to be angry, but the question came out as a hiss. _If Nightmare sees this..._

Uninvited, Cross squeezed in past Reaper and began tidying up.

Ink reached for Error. "Ruuuu no don't go...." 

"I-it was just a bit of..." Reaper hesitated. He wasn't sure why Ink went crazy here, but- 

Now the artist was standing up, using the chair as support. He held his hand out and, with a frown of concentration, his Broomy appeared in his hand. "Move over muscles, let me handle this." Suddenly, the artist was snorting with laughter. "Get it?" he waved Broomy around. "Heh, **handle**." He frowned, staring ahead before nodding. "Yeah, scooch over muscles, I'm gonna fix this."

Error stepped in front of Ink with an alarmed array of colors outlining his form. "Ink, no. _No_. You-!" Taking a moment for three deep, calming breaths, Error stepped closer and slid his arms around his husband, trapping the brush between them. "C'mon, hon, I know I call you a dumbass and all, but you have a brain rolling around in that skull of yours. Use it, okay?"

"Hmm, think with my _head?"_ Ink purred, eyes flaring with a heated pinkish red. Teasingly, he nudged Broomy forward, rewarded by a brief spark of a pretty, lustful color from Error as it applied just the right amount of pressure against his pelvis. Heh, his first could hate his brush all he wanted, but they both knew from experience that Broomy could draw out some pretty noises from-

There was a hand on his chest.

Color brightening in his eyes, Ink grinned. _Oh, so Ruru wants to be bold, does he?_ Bolder than he expected with the audience he had, but Ink wouldn't complain. "Error~" he sang, grin widening into a smirk that meant no good for the one faced with it. 

"Yeah, okay, no. You've never been tipsy before, Ink. Trusting you with your brush? No. With your brush _and_ that little look on your face? _Hell no."_ Dropping his hold, Error curled his hands around Ink's brush. Both hands.

At once, Ink's symbols bled a deep, endless black.

There was still a hand on his chest.

Just like that, the grin on the artist's face was gone. Slowly, he raised a hand directly over where the phantom hand was touching, and his attention faded from what was in front of him to the sensations being leeched away from his Geno. "No." 

Cross and Reaper looked over to Ink. It built up slowly, but soon rage was brewing just below Error's and Reaper's surfaces. Cross narrowed his eyes. "Ink, let him go. You... you're already in a lot of trouble. Just-"

Ink reached for Broomy, eyes unseeing, "No."

Eyes widening, Error snatched the brush away and stumbled back a few steps. "Ink, no! You can't just-!" Helpless, he looked to Reaper and Cross for help, his own anger boiling as his first subconsciously traced a path across his chest. Down, the hand was... it going down. "Ink, just..."

Just what? Calm down? Ink was- fuck, he was justified in his anger.

Cross spoke up with a voice surer than he felt on the subject. "Ink, you're not allowed to summon your brush outside of training or missions, nor do you have permission to leave this room. If you're planning on doing something stupid, then... Ink, I can't let that happen. For your safety, and for Geno's."

"You can't let this happen, huh...?" Ink murmured, gaze distant and dark. "You can't let this happen, Nightmare can decide this or that... That's how it is, isn't it?"

"Look, I know it sucks, okay? I understand-"

"No," Ink decided. "No, you don't. There's... so many restrictions..." he murmured. He shook his head, but the buzz was still there. "What else, Cross?" Ink turned his empty gaze on him. "Surely that's not it. Don't leave here? Don't summon my brush? Don't touch my husbands unless we're all here? We're not all here, dammit. I..." He clenched his hands to fists, and his shoulders began to shake. "Why does Nightmare get to decide all this? Who is he to give us orders? Who is he to..." Ink's eyes flashed red.

"To..?" Cross pushed, morbidly curious.

Ink's eyelights flickered, flashing between void sockets and those crimson eyes. When he turned to face Cross head on, they... shifted.

Rainbow orbs stared at him, angered. Indignant. "Who is Nightmare to demand my obedience? To be so bold as to command... to command..." His expression twisted into a frustrated expression. "Me!" Ink snapped, but he seemed even more displeased. _"Me!"_ he cried out again, growling. "No, not... not me, but... but..."

"Inky...?" Reaper whispered, concerned.

"...Look Ink," Cross slowly began when the artist remained silent. "Just... behave."

Ink stared at the floor. _I can't. I don't know how. I don't want to... **I shouldn't have to**... but... why?_

Softening, the second stepped forward. "Ink... I... I know it's hard, okay? Standing on the sidelines, unable to help because you're leashed in place... It get it, Ink. I d-"

"You get it?" Ink hissed, sockets dark voids of deep, undying hatred. "You think you get it, Cross? You think you _understand?"_ Snarling, he closed the distance between them not with a quick stride, but a teleport. Across the room one second, in Cross' face the next, Ink loomed over the other, shorter skeleton with an expression that flickered around the edges. "That _**filthy**_, disgusting _**rapist**_ has his hands on my husband. _On my Geno._ Do you want to know where his hands are, Cross? _Do you want to know the sensitive spots he's trying to find?_ Because I _feel_ it every time he finds one. Heh, even _I_ didn't know about some of them..." With a kiss, the hands were gone.

But the fucking touching didn't _stop._ It rarely did throughout these last few weeks.

Arms slid around Ink. A quick glance down told him that no, that wasn't true. They were around Geno, and when the now familiar weightlessness of being lifted followed the sensation, he knew that the glitch was being carried away.

"You say you get it, but you don't." he said coldly, gaze distant. "And I know you don't, because if you did? You wouldn't keep telling me to drop my connection."

Cold. He was cold. _He's undressing him again...!_ Undressing _and_ kissing him again, though Ink could tell it wasn't on the mouth. No, Nightmare's smirk was pressed against his neck, mouthing at the bone. _Moving...?_ He shook the questioning thought away, focus returning to Cross as his voice dropped to a deep, rumbling growl, "You don't understand shit, Cross. You... you at least get the chance to _try_ stopping that asshole. I don't. You think you're on the sidelines, Cross? You don't know what being on the sidelines really feels like, because you get to be right in the middle of the game. You... you don't-"

Ink startled, his entire body jerking as if attempting to prevent a dangerous fall. Before he could recover from the strange sensation, ice completely encased his form; burning as it rushed into his nasal cavity and filled his throat. _Wa... water...!_

He was- _Geno was underwater!_

And he couldn't _breathe...!_

_No...! NO!!_ Ink started to panic. Symbols flashing wildly, he stumbled backwards and sank to his knees, trying to breathe. _No...! No, Geno...!_

Geno was pulled upward and Ink immediately gasped for air, coughing against the water that wasn't even stuck in his system. He hunched in on himself, desperately shivering. _Why was it so c-cold..?! Why did he.....? Wh- **NO.**_

Nightmare was washing Geno. Being unnecessarily _thorough._

And of course, he was back to sucking marks into the glitch's neck, smile wide and breath hot as he mouthed-

_That... that's a word..._ but then Geno was being dunked again, and Ink lost all care of whatever sick whispers Nightmare was making.

_On the plus side, neither of them were buzzed anymore..._

But now a hand was-!

In another blink, Ink was upstairs, stumbling into one of the bedrooms and slamming the door shut. Broomy vanished from Error's grip, and they were left standing in a stunned silence.

Error looked to Reaper- "He needs you," Reaper murmured. Error nodded to him gratefully before running up the stairs. Reaper turned towards Cross, frowning. "What ties you here, Cross?" 

The second frowned, disturbed slightly by what he'd just witnessed. Ink's emotions seemed to be a lot more... volatile. And he hadn't realized it earlier, but was his ecto formed...? He turned away from Reaper, "You heard what Boss said at dinner." 

"He said a lot of things," Reaper narrowed his sockets slightly. 

"Regarding Ink," Cross continued to set the room together again. "He needs to figure out how to do what he's told." 

"You mean, _as obedient as a well trained dog?”_ the god hissed. "He doesn't obey anyone. He _protects._ His is a free spirit-" he stopped. 

Cross glanced over at him as the realization seemed to settle into the the god. Softly, Cross said, "If you and Error are able to teach him in the moments you have with him, it'll make everything better. Because once Nightmare decides to take lessons into his own hands..." he shook his head and looked away again. "I'm sure you can imagine enough."

Reaper smiled, but there was no joy in the expression; no warmth in the tilt of his grin or the crinkle of sockets that could only see the empty gaze of his first. "Heh, yeah..." He blinked, but still the image of Geno wouldn't leave him. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted it to.

"...I can imagine alright..."


	24. Field Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nightmare isn't the only one who takes a hands-on approach to things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Minor non-consensual groping

Three days. It took three days for Nightmare to grow bored with Ink's absence from his other games. _Other_ games, because the one played through Geno and the connection he shared with Ink was still going strong.

Cross collected the three of the husbands early that third morning and, silently, they followed him to the throne room. Surprisingly, Nightmare was there early. Unsurprisingly, Geno was on his lap. 

Ink had felt the entire morning routine, after all. 

Trying to remember Error's words, Ink kept his furious red gaze firmly on the floor. 

Nightmare brushed his teeth across Geno's jaw, smiling down at the three husbands. "A very nice morning to you." His gaze flicked to Cross. 

Cross inclined his head and turned towards the husbands. "Today, Error will be training the two of you on how to destroy AUs. Joining you will be Endure." 

"N-" Ink cut the denial off as one of Nightmare's hands dragged down Geno's hip to his thigh. It was a miracle the empath didn't fidget at the firm phantom touch. 

"After your training, the three of you will be asked to destroy an AU a piece, with Error, myself, and Nightmare as your judges. Your training will begin today."

_Alarm, terror, denial..._ And those feelings weren't just Ink's. No, they belonged to Error and Reaper as well, though the reaction was born mostly from concern for their artist. With what took place following Aftertale's destruction...

The white of terror thickened. "Nightmare, no," Error whispered, guilt an unseen blade driving into his heart when his refusal led to another foul touch. It was a small, unsatisfying comfort that the king's hand was not yet beneath the clothing Geno wore. "Ink can't-! I'll do it for him, Nightmare. I'll take Ink's place."

_Does distance help?_ Would Error taking Ink's place even matter? He wasn't sure, but he had to at least try.

Nightmare's smile turned poisonous. "How... _romantic,"_ he sneered. Stars, it sounded like a curse when he said it...! His eye slid to Ink's own downturned gaze. "I'd expect any and all work done by my artist to be nothing short of a masterpiece, but... well, if you're saying you can't teach him, then I'll simply find another." His grin widened, "Maybe _I_ should teach you-" 

"N-no," Error started. 

"I care not for your excuses, _Destroyer._ The Betrayer has already proven that he can take lives away just as easily as he can _protect_ them. He will learn to destroy AUs as well." Nightmare's expression hardened. "Either you teach him to destroy, or **I will.** Understand?"

Error's head dropped in defeat. "Yes, Nightmare."

"Address me correctly."

"...My king..."

A sadistic gleam in his eye broke through the king's threatening mask. With too much joy in the motion, he shook his head; finger tapping on Geno's thigh with every shake. "You can do better than that after displeasing me, Error. Come on, think a little harder. Please me, just like you used to be so good at doing when your title wasn't shared. Yes...?"

_Bastard..._ Error knew what Nightmare wanted to be called. "Yes, _Nighty."_

It wasn't a regal name. It was childish. 

It used to be fond.

The king smiled. "Dismissed."

Error glanced to Cross, shoving himself into business mode. "If Endure meant to join us, then where is he?" 

"He's meeting us in the courtyard," Cross nodded for the others to follow. Ink's gaze searched over Geno as they left. Just in time to see and feel Nightmare drag claws lightly up Geno's thigh to rest on his hips. 

Out the multiple hallways and through the large doors, the husbands found themselves out in the yard near where they had been sparring with Cross. Standing by one of the torches was Endure, with his arms crossed and glancing up at the sky curiously, albeit with a hint of fear. 

_He's never seen stars before... not real ones..._

It made sense though, didn't it? Genocidal timelines didn't end on the surface and, even if they had, Endure, as a Papyrus, wouldn't have been among the surviving monsters that might have gotten the chance of freedom. The sun, the twinkling midnight sky... those were sights gifted to Underground monsters from the merciful.

Unaware of their presence, Endure filled the lonely silence around him with quiet whispers; conversation held between him and the distant stars that twinkled quite intimidatingly. A lot of what he was mumbling seemed like nonsense, but... it wasn't, Error realized after a bit of concentration. 

Endure was naming the stars and constellations that cycled through the eternal night sky. _How does he...?_

"That's the... the Pegasus, right...?" The tall skeleton murmured, sockets narrowed in focus. Absentmindedly, his fingers fiddled with one of the sleeves of the faded hoodie he wore around his waist."Hmm... it looks very... starry. That is, it looks like a bunch of stars, and not at all like a winged horse. But... I'm sure that's it. It looks just like the pictures you showed me, brother."

_Brother...? Oh._

He was talking to the hoodie around his waist.

Ink frowned and tried to ignore the deep sense of sadness he felt from the Papyrus and for his husband. It didn't matter that End hated Ink or was angry with him for whatever reason. That sadness just... settled there. 

Reaper too felt a sense of sadness, though complicated by the dark anger centered on the hoodie End's waist. _Geno used to have a token of his precious little brother, and you took that from him._ The god glowered, though kept comments to himself. 

Error grit his teeth and sighed. Already, he was to teach Ink, and now he has to teach End, too? Ink's an idiot, but a kind person. Though before his soul he tended towards cruel pranks and tricks for amusement, he still protected and never killed. And with his soul, it seemed to hurt him about as much as it hurt them. Regarding End, it was incredibly rare for any more classic Papyruses to have any mean or angry bones. Maybe their rage occurred, but it was quick to evaporate. 

Endure was different. Slightly. Forced into becoming the aware brother of nonstop genocidal runs and witness his brother fade with each reset, he was understandably frustrated and desperate. But his anger was.... off. Enhanced. Like picking a wound until it bled. 

_Familiar._

In a way, End and Ink were a lot alike. _And both changed with Aftertale's destruction..._ Error realized. 

Cross approached him. "Hello, Endure. You ate something small beforehand, yes?"

To his credit, Endure managed to hide his surprise fairly well. His anger? Not so much. 

Oh, he did a decent job at attempting to conceal the ever-present rage in his eyes that Ink and Error always managed to invoke, but the hateful emotion was still clear. _Fine, whatever._ As long as Endure followed orders and listened to what may very well be a difficult lesson for him to learn, then he could keep his ire.

"Yes, I did. Just as you ordered, Cross." Back straight with the good posture of a soldier, the Papyrus kept his attention primarily on the scarred skeleton.

"Good. Get in line with Ink and Reaper. Error, how do we want to go about this?"

Error shrugged. "Talk, demonstrate, hands on, first AU. Simple." Not that he wanted to do this. 

Cross frowned a little at him but said, "Seems simple enough." 

Endure walked over to join the husbands, though stood just an extra step away from Ink. Reaper was on the artist's other side. Probably for the best, to avoid any more potential accidents. 

Error and Cross stared at each other before the former took in a deep breath and faced the others, "Destroying AUs is easy." If this were too many years ago, he probably would've added, _and fun!_ "You destroy certain landmarks in an AU, and you will likely reach the code. I destroy with my strings. Cross has his swords. Killer and Horror have their own weapons and methods. They usually go for some of the pillars of a typical AU, such as their Sans, their Papyrus, or the human. Of course there's other pillars, and once at least two of them fall, it takes either the death of everyone else or one of the Stars," he glanced guiltily to Ink before his teacher mask was shoved back on, "to reset the AU to normal. Horror's and Killer's methods are much more graphic and drawn-out than what we're going to be doing today. It takes longer to go through the pillars than it does to go through the world itself. Any questions?" 

The three of them stared at Error, mixed emotions in the three of them. Endure frowned, about to mention Aftertale, when he stopped and glanced down at Ink. _He destroyed my AU, why is he here...?_

His window of opportunity to ask closed before Endure could form the question. "No? Okay. The theory behind everything stops there, so..." It was a struggle, but Error managed to keep his eyes off Ink. "...practicing comes next. Being told how to destroy an AU is one thing. Actually putting what you've been told to use? It can be pretty difficult."

Endure's frown deepened, "Did you just inform us that it was easy?"

Cross took over for Error. "The theory? Fulfilling the requirements to reduce a world to pieces? That, on its own, is what we consider easy. The casualties linked to that destruction...? Well, even newbies falter sometimes when it comes to leaving children to die."

_Parents and children. Hundreds of families wiped away or broken down to join the code of their worlds before they realize what's going on. And any survivors usually become glitches or errors in their own rights.... Ink already felt queasy. This is exactly the kind of shit I **protect** against..._ He shut his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. 

Of course, his breath caught when the phantom hands gripping his hips felt up beneath his clothes to teasingly stroke his stomach. 

Seeming to take pity on them, if for the moment, Cross added, "To start, we're going to show you how we destroy a part of an AU. That way you can see for yourself the damage necessary to reveal the codes beneath. However, you three are going to have to destroy your own portions to finish off the AU." 

_Finish off the AU..._ Reaper grit his jaw. Basically, put it out of it's misery so that Dream can reset it... oh Dream..... He glanced to his artist husband, noticing his arms starting to tremble. Oh stars, Ink's going to be directly- 

Suddenly, and almost vividly, Reaper remembered the dust that broke off Ink and covered part of his robes, changing them to a lighter grey. _This... this could kill him...!_ He shot his gaze to Error, horrified that it took him so long to remember. 

All he saw was a resigned anxiety in his other husband's eyes. 

Maybe Ink was strong enough? Maybe knowing what to expect would help? 

_Maybe they were going to watch their husband dust in front of them and be unable to stop it...._

Not for the first time, Reaper cursed himself. If Ink were to dust... if Ink were to _die..._

It would be Reaper's fault. 

Not directly, but... Stars, he was _death._ The orders may have come from Nightmare's mouth, but the end of a life... Those were _Reaper's_ creations, if you could even call a death such a thing. And Ink's death... it would fall under his jurisdiction, too. 

_Unnatural, murderous Death... the god that never should have been; the life not granted by Life herself. The eternal end to all those he precedes... _

...and doesn't that include Ink? A nasty voice whispered in the back of his skull. 

Anxious and ill, the god dropped his gaze to the floor. Voice a quiet, raw whisper, he choked out, "Where... where will be going?"

Error watched him with worry concealed from all but Ink. "...Somewhere without a name." Faced with confusion, he sighed, "The multiverse is... vast. Scattered throughout it, there are worlds that have been abandoned. Some die off all on their own; quickly, quietly, with no one any wiser about the existence that was lost. Others... they linger stubbornly, festering in their abandonment. When that happens... well, sometimes you get a ghost town of a world. Other times, the inhabitants twist into half formed code. Monsters in the way humans view the word, you can say. It's hard to know which world will be what, so we're just going to have to hope for something easy to deal with."

Cross jumped in again, "Don't expect any assignments our king gives to be this... merciful. For now, it's more important to learn and understand the destruction aspect. His assignments are not usually to forgotten worlds, and if you fuck up destroying it, he'll punish you." 

"And if you two take us to a world with these... twisted creatures?" Endure asked with a frown. 

"You deal with them." Surprisingly, the words came from Cross and not Error. "Any other questions before we go?" 

Various eyes glanced between each other, though Ink kept his own on the floor. He had no questions. He had no.... nothing. The anger he'd felt for so long was still there, but... stars, he was so fucking **tired.** He shoved his hands in his pockets, flicking his gaze up to glance between the teachers. 

Still, when no questions were asked, Error nodded. "Fine." He turned away and ripped a portal open with his bare claws. 

Once on the other side, the five of them took a moment to orient themselves to the AU. _Snowdin._

But... where was the...? 

Almost subconsciously, Ink stretched his empathy out to sense for any life. None. The only forms of life he could sense were the ones standing next to him. And the connection that, though weaker, was still there with Geno.

_And the tendrils that were starting to cup his breasts..._ All at once, Ink was thankful he chose slightly baggier clothes to disguise when his ecto defensively formed. And he was doubly glad that his own breasts were tiny things that wouldn't really register under the shirt.

_Gonna fucking murder that octopus bastard..._ Ink clenched his fists tight. 

Taking another closer look, the pupils noted that, yes there was snow, but it was in evenly spaced sections. Almost like a checkerboard but with more ground than snow. With a glance to each other, the Destroyer and the Guard tore out and formed their weapons before ripping into this small section of the world. 

From Error's gouges, black and white code seemed to flow upwards. From Cross', it was red. 

Ink shuddered slightly and grit his teeth. _This world's already dying. It's a mercy. This is a mercy for this world._ He closed his eyes and froze. 

_This world was refusing to die._

_Oh stars, this is a world that Dream and I would try to help...!_

He could practically taste the stubbornness of the AU. Though it appeared to lack any denizens, that feeling wouldn't leave.

Unaware, Cross continued, "See the code drifting up? More and more of that code will be visible until the final blow destroys even that code.” 

“There’s no guarantee that the AU will _stay_ gone, but for AUs like these, where it’s already dying, the only way it can be brought back is if someone brings it back. For other, more established places, it will simply come back on its own,” Error stared at each of them. “Got it? Because it’s your turn now.” 

Ink dropped his gaze before his first could meet it. _If this AU is truly stubborn, maybe it’ll come back…? Maybe, once all this is over, I can help this AU flourish the way it so clearly wants to…?_ He brought a hand up to his chest and released a nervous breath. _Yeah… yeah I… I can do this._

_I have no choice…_

A wounded noise drew Ink's attention.

At first, he thought the sound was from Endure, simply because the reasoning made sense. This empty world wasn't the home the Papyrus lost, but it was similar, even if that similarity was in name and appearance alone. Destroying a world that mirrored the home you loved? It had to be difficult.

But... that wasn't Endure's voice. Low, disrupted by verbal glitches... that was Error.

Endure was just the _cause._

Too curious for his own good, Ink looked up and barely bit back a pained noise of his own. Not physical, but close with the way his sorrow _jabbed_ into his heart. Error's strings, Cross' sword, Reaper's scythe... those were the weapons they chose to go about this destruction with.

When Ink began his own task, he knew he would use his brush. 

Endure... Admittedly, Ink expected bones. Magical constructs like glowing femurs, or perhaps even skeletal blasters. Aftertale was closely styled after the original Undertale, after all. Endure, as it's Papyrus, wouldn't have known how to wield a sword, or much of anything else. And yet... there he was.

With a bow painfully similar to _**Dream's.**_

_"I went in and talked to him when you weren't responding. He asked me about my bow and arrows, asking for help..."_ In case who Endure thought was _Ink_ came back. And Error, too.

Stars... Dream helped Endure learn how to wield that bow. Obviously, he went so far as to _make_ him one.

And Endure was going to use it for _destruction._

Ink looked away, hesitating on summoning his brush. That... it was a tool of protection- 

_You've already killed with it. It's already sullied, Inky._

There's just something about two weapons previously used against agents of destruction now being used _for_ destruction that had Ink's already queasy stomach rolling even more. 

It was a little odd to see Error's strings out for something other than creating dolls for their kids... and with Reaper's scythe? Ink wasn't sure he'd ever seen it used against a world before... 

Cross glanced between them all. "No better time to start than the present." _Nightmare expects us all to be back by dinnertime. And with an AU this far out of the way, there shouldn't be anyone to disturb us._

When Reaper and Ink hesitated a moment longer, Endure formed an arrow from his condensed magic and shot it into the abandoned shop building. A light shone from the impact, and the dark orange orange of Endure's magic spread into the walls, breaking it down until an orange code floated up from the building. 

Ink found himself staring at the Papyrus. In those split seconds, _his form exactly matched Dream's._

He'd seen those moves over and over and over. Every singly shot his oldest friend took had the same motions, altered slightly if Dream was in motion, or was tracking his target, but- _Endure mimicked it perfectly._ Nausea rose within him. 

Endure glanced to Error and Cross. "Like that?" 

"Y-yeah," Cross nodded. "Great job." He turned towards Reaper and Ink. "Your turns."

Prolonging Ink's turn in what could have been seen as either an act of mercy or a condemnation, Reaper stepped forward with his scythe tightly gripped in his hand. _Relax..._ No good would come from a tense god armed with a weapon. Then again, not much good was taking place at all.

"Get on with it," Cross demanded, though Reaper now knew he didn't mean to be unkind. Appearances mattered, even when away from Nightmare's gaze. What Cross could get away with in the privacy of their quarters couldn't be carried out elsewhere. "Nightmare expects great things from you all, but he's especially curious about you, god."

The 'motivation' left Reaper with a chill. _"A beautiful god that sings beautiful songs... I bet your work is quite lovely as well, little bird. I look forward to seeing it, one day."_ As if Nightmare wasn't well acquainted with death already.

Easing the harsh grip on his scythe, Reaper let himself take comfort in the lack of life all around them as he slipped into a state of calm, distant relaxation. _Just... prove yourself..._ All he had to do was show that he understood the lessons taught to them. Take out as little as possible, he thought, blank gaze distant. _Don't... try not to hurt Ink..._

Cross murmured another phrase meant to rush him, but it fell on deaf ears as Reaper looked around. All things had an end. People, plants... even stars and the worlds they shined above... There were rules in place to keep him from speeding the ticking of clocks. The punishments that resulted from breaking those rules...

Reaper shuddered. _Geno is more important..._

Turning his back to the town, Reaper faced the snow covered forest not too far away. The entirely of the forest couldn't be scene, but...

Focusing on what only he could see, he swiped. As his blade cut an arc through the air, deep, dark coding trailed behind the sharp cut. For a moment, it lingered, Reaper's slash almost too quick for the destruction to register. Then, it spread.

Within seconds, Snowdin's forest was a mess of shadowy code and blackening decay.

_Shit, too much..._ Reaper thought with a wince.

Ink still hadn't formed his brush when their eyes fell on him. Though he knew he was going to use it. He... 

_Couldn't._

Couldn't bring himself to summon Broomy forth. 

He had other weapons in his arsenal. Sort of... if you counted the paints and inks he can control a _weapon._ And though the weight of those stares increased, Ink stayed lost in his thoughts. 

A flare of anger re-ignited within him. 

Nightmare may have The Artist in his arsenal, but he will not have Broomy too. Ink wouldn't allow his precious paintbrush to be further sullied by Nightmare and his games. 

He held out his hand and summoned forth some inks from within him. Distantly, he wondered if his ink was a good idea to summon, but that wasn't important right now. Right now, proving that he, too, understood the lesson was vital. 

Ink molded the material in his hand into the shape of a spear. _Don't think, don't think, don't think._ He flipped it a few times, then stabbed it into the ground beneath their feet. Cracks multiplied from the injury to the world, and from it, psychedelic colored code drifted up and out. 

Purple shot through the artist, and he gripped his chest, trying and failing not to cough. 

Reaper reached for him hesitantly, "Ink, are you-?" 

The artist pulled his hand away, unsurprised to see his own blood in his palm. He shivered and tried wiping at the blood he knew would be draining from his mouth.

All his attempt resulted in was a wet spear of ink across his already stained cheek. _Shit..._ He tried to fix the mistake, but it was too late. Everyone saw.

Error cursed and stepped forward only to be restrained by Cross' arm shooting out to stop him. Voice low to keep their conversation quiet, Cross murmured, "Let Reaper go to him, Error. When instructing, we're not supposed to show favoritism."

"Favoritism?" Error echoes in an hiss. "Don't bullshit me Cross! Nightmare fucking knows I care about my hus-" Fuck, Nightmare did _know._ If Error showed up with Ink draped over him... There was no way that bastard wouldn't find some way to twist it against him. "Reaper, support Ink. Our lesson is over, so we're returning to the castle to give Nightmare our progress."

"Already?" There was a vindictive glint in Endure's eyes. Although he seemed startled by Ink's sudden injuries, the concern felt from the other three was missing from the Papyrus' emotion. _Red that never died, specks of hateful black..._ "Shouldn't we stay longer? We have yet to master this new skill."

_That bastard...!_ Error's stare was frigid. "The goal of this lesson was to learn, not master. We're leaving. Reaper, do you have Ink?"

Pressed against the artist with Ink's arm over his shoulder, the god nodded. "We're ready..." _He needs healing. Cream, food... whatever works the fastest._ There didn't seem to be signs of dust on Ink, but Reaper wasn't sure if that would change if they didn't hurry. 

"Then let's go."

"But-"

This time, Cross shut Endure down. Instead of doing so through words, he ripped a portal open with the swipe of his blade and wordlessly stepped through. The Papyrus huffed, but followed. Reaper, already taking Ink's full weight, tried to allow the stubborn skeleton the freedom to walk, but when Ink faltered after a few steps and lurched forward to vomit his namesake, the god scooped him up into a hold and rushed through the portal; closely followed by Error.

"My king," Cross began, head bowed, "we have-!" 

Brow raised, Nightmare turned his head to meet the second's startled gaze. "Oh, don't mind our little accident, Cross." Lazily, he ran a piece of fine cloth over Geno's mouth where _ink_ bubbled and dripped down his chin. As he worked, a tendril copied his uncaring motions for the dark splotch of color staining Geno's chest. "Go on with your report."

In pain, Geno whimpered. The choked noise was what broke through everyone's stupor.

_The connection...!_

Endure stared between them all, but especially the image of his pregnant brother with a large chest, being fondled under the guise of cleaning. _With what looked to be the same material dripping from his mouth as the artist._

At Geno's sound of pain, Ink tightened his grip on Reaper and tried to turn the tides back towards himself. _Geno's going through enough, don't let him hurt anymore...!_

Nightmare watched with interest as the sensation bleeding from Ink to Geno was reversed, and tears slipped through the cracks in the artist's sockets. 

Anxious to get this over with, Error spoke, "The three performed their lessons well." 

"Is the AU destroyed?" 

Cross took over, "You informed us to demonstrate, then have them get some hands-on experience, my king. Respectfully, that's what happened." 

"That doesn't answer my question." He leaned slightly over Geno, staring Cross and Error down. "Is the AU destroyed?" 

"With the spread of five different destruction techniques, it's only a matter of time," Cross stared straight back, certainty clear in his words.

Tension thickened the air within the throne room, heavy as it settled over all their heads while king and loyal second maintained their eye contact. With no outward sign of nervousness, Cross stood his ground with a straighten back and his head held eye; seemly unafraid of the lord that loomed before him on his grand throne. 

As the silent showdown continued, Ink trembled in Reaper's arms. _He's amused..._ It was more than that, though. Nightmare wasn't just amused by Cross' bravery, he was impressed by it. _And perfectly willing to drag this out to see if he'll break._

Seconds crept by, bleeding into long, agonizing minutes. After just three, Reaper's clothing was wet with Ink's blood and the artist was close to unconsciousness. Had it not been for the precious glitch on Nightmare's lap, Ink would have gladly given himself to the darkness of a pained, exhausted sleep.

When Nightmare broke his stare with Cross to continue wiping at Geno, Ink forced himself pass his body's complaints to remain awake. _I won't let him hurt, I... I won't let him feel those fucking touches...!_

"I suppose that'll have to do for today," Nightmare finally conceded. "Dismissed, everyone. I have more important matters to deal with, though I expect a in depth report from you two later, Seconds. For now, shoo." Curiously, Nightmare plucked at the shirt Geno wore and peered down the collar. "Poor Geno needs to be prepared for his bath and I rather not share such sights with you all."

Endure's discomfort was easily drowned by Reaper, Error, and Ink's own rage.

Cross and Error didn't even have to glance at each other for Cross to tell Endure to follow after him. 

Error also didn't _need_ to look at his husbands to know they'll follow, but he did anyway. Reaper held Ink tighter, gritting his teeth as he hurried after Error. _The sooner we get Ink some help, the better it'll be for both of them..._

Meanwhile, Ink clung to his husbands' various emotions and pains to keep himself awake. Now that he was back hom- **here**, it was easier to feel Nightmare's disgusting claws and tendrils on Geno again, carrying him off to, most likely, a bath. 

Error opened their door, shutting it tightly before racing up the stairs to the bathroom for some gauze. Reaper gently set Ink on the couch, "Inky, where does it hurt?" 

Forcing a laugh out between shuddery breaths, Ink murmured, "Chest." He gripped Reaper's robes to keep himself upright as his husband gingerly peeled off his shirt. 

And stared at the damage. 

"Stars.... Ink, it looks like your chest was... _shattered..."_

His mind told him not to look. Of course, he wasn't in the mindset of listening to himself. Another round of coughing had Ink desperately grabbing his shirt from Reaper to trap the gunk in the cloth. 

The bones themselves weren't actually broken or shattered, but several thousand lacerations made their home across his ribs, all of which bled ink and dripped inside and out of his ecto. He bit back a whimpering complaint. _This is fine... it isn't Geno going through this..._

"...Ink." Although his voice was borderline cold with the firm, serious tone he use, Reaper's hands were gentle as they carefully peeled back Ink's ink soaked shirt to replace it with a towel summoned from the bathroom. In a blink of an eye, the fluffy white material was halfway to being dyed black. "Ink, you need to-"

This again? "Reaper, _no,"_ Ink meant to hiss. It came out as a strained whimpered, the purple filling the artist's vision growing darker and darker with every passing moment. "I... I'm not-!"

"Going to let Geno feel Nightmare's hands? Going to let Geno _hurt?_ Ink, you... Geno was already hurt today, but it wasn't because of Nightmare, hon." Gently, almost apologetically, Reaper dealt a blow far harsher than any of the strikes that tore apart the forgotten AU. "Ink, Geno was hurt because of you today. Because of the connection you have."

Dark, watery ink spilled from the artist's sockets. "I... it was a mistake. It's not going to happen again, Reaper. _I won't let it!"_

"Can you promise that? Ink, what if you fall asleep? What if your wounds are too much to handle and whatever happened today happens again? I... look, I don't want his hands on Geno anymore than you do. I don't want Geno to have to feel that, but... honey, if you can't maintain this connection you two have? It's only going to worsen everything else Geno has to deal with. The touches... they're not any better or worse than pain, but at least they can't hurt Geno's..." It wasn't any easier to say. "...Geno's baby..."

Ink shook his head stubbornly. "No! _No_, Reaper! I..." Bloody tears fell faster. "J-just... just trust me, damnit! This is better for him, Reaps! I... it's better!" 

Shaking his head in disappointment, the god called forth another towel. Once it swapped with it's soiled twin and began to dirty, Error began making his way downstairs; arms pull of their first aid kit and what creams they were allowed after various request from the destroyer. "Ink-"

Reaper, not done with his argument, interrupted him, "An hour. If anything, at least drop the connection for an hour, Ink. If we can get to your ribs directly, then your wounds will close. After that, you can start the connection again." _Even if I think it's a bad idea..._

"Get to my-" he looked down, having forgotten that his ecto was formed, and his chest and chub was exposed. It wasn't like they hadn't seen it before but Ink wished they were seeing it for sexier reasons. 

Error grit his teeth. "Ink, you know Nightmare's going to have you destroy an AU. It's _kind of_ obvious. And this is the result of a _partially_ destroyed AU. Are you willing to allow Geno and his baby to die just because you were too much of a stubborn shit to let go?"

Ink wanted to scream, _I won't mess up again! I'll keep him safe, damnit! From Nightmare, from myself... I'll keep him safe! Geno, his baby..._ Ink wouldn't hurt them. He wouldn't!

...But he couldn't actually promise that, could he?

Averting his eyes, Ink slowly pulled the towel pressed against his chest away. As he did so, rainbow flesh receded; stimulation gone without the connection to Geno. "...Once I'm healed, I'm starting the connection up again."

"Ink-"

"I'll d-drop it when Nightmare sends me to d-destroy a world, Error." The healing cream said skeleton was quick to smooth over the cracks in his ribs was cold. That wasn't why Ink shook in place. "I won't let Geno be hurt by that. Not... not again, but until then? After, once I'm healed?" _If I'm even still around._ "Then I'm going to maintain it. I'm not going to leave him to be abused."

Reaper opened his mouth to argue. _Even if you're connected to him, he's still going to be abused...!_ But Error's quick glance to the god had those words dying on his tongue. 

_A small victory is still a victory, right...? This is just a step closer..._

Error smoothed the rest of the healing cream over Ink's wounds, watching his expression for any hint that he was using his magic to connect to Geno again. 

But Ink was trying to keep to his word, even though the sudden emptiness from the lack of a connection had him clinging to Reaper just a little tighter. 

Gently, Reaper suggested, "Why don't you get some rest too, hon? It'll speed up your healing and give you a chance to replenish your magic." 

_Replenish...? I don't feel like I'm missing any magic...?_

_I miss Geno..._ Ink ducked his head as tears started forming again. Being so close, both husbands saw them fall.

Softening, the two caged Ink between them in a gentle embrace, careful not to disturb his aching body and watchful for any distress Ink may show. "C'mon, squid, don't cry..." Error pleaded, kneeling so he could tuck Ink's skull under his chin. 

_I miss him, I miss him..._ Over a month of constant contact with his husband and now Geno was just... gone. It didn't feel right. _He should be **here**, damnit. Geno..._ he should be here. With the brother who missed him, the husbands who adored him... Geno had so many empty places he could fill with his presence, awake and aware or not. I want him back...

"I want my Geno back..." Ink sobbed, safely pressed between his destroyer and god.

Reaper crooned, "We want him back too, Inky..." 

Error hummed softly, hoping to soothe Ink into resting and, within the hour, his first was asleep. 

_How long has it been...??_

"Weeks, I think..." Reaper murmured, surprising Error who failed to realize the words were spoken out loud. "Ink's not as great as an actor as he believes he is."

Sighing, Error nodded his agreement. "You realized that too, huh?" When he shifted the slightest bit away, the artist whined and clung to him; keeping him close. 

Lifting Ink, Reaper aided the destroyer in carefully backing up so that the three could claim the couch. If remaining near Ink would keep him asleep, then both were more than curl up with the slumbering artist. "He sleeps like a heathen, hon. Rolling around, tossing his limbs everywhere... Ink isn't still, _or_ quiet." And yet, throughout the last month, Ink would 'sleep' stock still without even the slightest mumble. Figuring out he was awake was easy.

Trying to figure out how to get him to rest? Not so much.

Reaper held both closer. "At least he's asleep now..." 

"For how long?" Error looked up at Reaper, reaching across his first to press a gentle kiss to the other's chin. "A couple hours? A day if we're lucky? I'm... worried about him." 

The god gently wiped Ink's tears away. "So am I..." _I can't reap my own husband.... I j-just...! I'm not prepared to reap any of them...._

As if he'd had a chance to reap at all these past several weeks. Stars.... his headache.... He frowned even more. If Ink kept that connection open with Geno, does that mean he couldn't feel as much from anyone else...? Would he answer if they asked straight up? 

"What are you thinking about Reaps...?" Error stared at him.

Dropping his forehead to press against Error's shoulder, Reaper sighed. Secrets, lies... nothing good would come from them, though that didn't help his reluctance to share his thoughts. Still... "He thinks he's been fooling us, Error."

Reaching around Ink, Error began rubbing soothing circles into Reaper back. "Yeah, I know..."

Trilling softly, Reaper lazily shook his head; eyes closed. _Hm, that feels nice..._ but he didn't let himself get too comfortable. Not yet. "Hon, Ink _thinks he's been fooling us._ That... doesn't that seem a little odd considering his abilities? I'm... worried, Error. One moment, he's able to feel _all the way across the castle_ but then the next he can't even tell we're awake and _worried_ about him? Even though we're _right there?_ Doesn't that seem... I don't know, erratic?"

Error paused. At Reaper's noise of complaint, he slowly started up his half-assed massage again. "I... shit, I didn't even think about that."

"I...I want to trust him, hon. _I do._ But..." Tilting his head, Reaper peered at Ink's expression with a sorrowful expression. Even in his sleep, Ink wore a distressed frown. "I never know what to do anymore, Error. When we first ended up here it was hard, but... 'keep Geno safe' was the only goal. Now, it's keep Geno safe and keep Geno's baby safe and keep Ink safe and its..." Closing his eyes, the god buried his face in Error's shoulder. "Ink is trying to keep Gen and the baby safe, but he doesn't seem to care about _himself._ It's... it's making him reckless, I think."

He laughed a little. "Sorry... sorry, it's... _none_ of this is funny, but it' kinda nice to hear this from another's point of view...." Error shook his head slightly. "He's always been like that... I think he's afraid of forgetting to protect us, so he's trying too hard and stretching himself out too thin, not realizing that his..." he shot Reaper a halfhearted smile, _"recklessness _is causing us pain." 

"It's so _frustrating...!"_

Error nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to Ink's head, just as the artist violently wriggled to become more comfortable. Error hissed at the resulting headbutt against his chin, but froze to make sure Ink actually stayed asleep. Moments passed with Ink's head nuzzled into Error's chest, but a fist still clenched in each of their shirts. 

Reaper chuckled slightly. "Are you okay?" 

"My chin's fine..." he sighed. _We've just... gotta keep hope, right? That's all we can do..._

"We should try to rest too..." the words were convincing, but the tightness at the corners of the god's sockets told Error a different story. 

"Please don't take after our idiot, okay?" 

That earned a tug at his grin, and a sincere gleam in his sockets. "I'll try, Ru."

And really, that was all Error could ask for.


	25. Request Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ink and Nightmare have a one-on-one. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Minor warning:** Non-descriptive nudity, minor usual Nightmare behavior.

When Ink awoke, it was to the sight of Reaper and Error lounging in bed on either side of him. Bowls carefully balanced on their laps, they seemed to be in the midst of eating while sharing quiet conversation.

All that ended the moment Error caught Ink watching them with bleary-eyed confusion. "I-Ink?!" he gasped, nearly sending cereal all across the bed in his rush to set his bowl aside.

In a hurry of his own, Reaper nearly missed the bedside table. Thankfully, a bit of magic was enough to nudge the bowl into place and the god was free to join Error in smothering Ink in a desperate hug.

"Two days," Error murmured, arms tight around Ink. "Fuck, squid. This is what happens when you don't fucking sleep! You conk out for _48 hours_ straight." Even as he stressed over the amount Ink slept, Error couldn't help but feel relieved. Clearly, the artist had needed it.

Ink groaned but sunk into his husbands' embraces, closing his eyes to further enjoy their continued warmth. He tried to rasp out a word, or a question, but when clearing his throat didn't even help, he decided he'd wait. The magic burning under his sockets had lessened slightly, but stained color from exhaustion was still present. 

Reaper barely allowed an inch between them when he pulled back to ask, "Are you feeling better? Do you need food or water?" 

_Need? Yes. Want? ...Not really._ He shook his head slightly- 

"Bullshit, have some of our cereal, squidiot." 

Ink managed a true smile at the nickname. Though it wasn't as bright as it used to be, Error felt a hint of relief at the fact that Ink even smiled. That was more than he dared to expect when he wasn't even sure there _would_ be an Ink left to smile at him. Or that he'd be in a pleasant enough mood to do so, considering... 

_Don't mention Geno, don't mention Geno...!_ Reaper and Error shared a look, unknowingly sharing similar thoughts. If they mentioned Geno, Ink was probably going to throw himself into the connection again. If asked, the artist would claim he felt fine and could handle it, but they knew better. He needed a break. _Geno_ probably needed- 

_Oh stars, how was this affecting **Geno**...?_

Neither Error nor Reaper had the chance to wonder about that. 

Ink opened his mouth, again to try and ask something, and Error slid a spoon of cereal between his teeth. Gently, Error murmured, "You need the subsistence after such a long time, okay Inky?" 

The artist glanced between the husbands, eye lights changing shapes slowly. He chewed the first bite, swallowed, then after a moment's hesitation, sheepishly looked towards the cereal.

Relieved, Error offered Ink another spoonful, then another. Slowly, the two worked through the remains of the destroyer's quick meal and even half of Reaper's own before the artist decided he was full. _Guess I did need that..._ He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the food helped with the stubborn sluggishness clinging to his mind. 

"Th-" Clearing his throat, Ink tried again with a slight rasp to his voice. "Thanks, Ru." He turned his small smile to Reaper. "You too, hon."

Pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile of his own, Reaper merely nodded in response and took the bowls in hand to bring them downstairs. Before he could manage as much as half a step from the bed, Ink panicked and reached out to catch him by the sleeve.

"N-no!" He-! Ink just... wanted him here. _Both_ of them.

Reaper blinked but set the bowls down and returned to the bed, snuggling back against the artist. Error exchanged looks with the god but both ultimately decided to indulge the artist and held each other close. It wasn't as if holding Ink between them was harmful, or something troublesome. After the uncertainty of the last two days, it was actually a relief to feel the artist squished between them; awake, _alive._

Unfortunately, Error he knew that familiar knocks were inevitable. "Inky... the three of us are going to have to get dressed soo-" 

A soft whimper escaped him before he'd caught control of himself, and the way Ink gripped Error's and Reaper's clothes tighter just added to the image.

"Inky..."

The artist shook his head, clinging tighter. _Something's wrong. I... I feel empty..._ After the thought was out, rolling about in his head, Ink decided that 'empty' didn't sit quite right with him. Ink... well, he knew what being empty felt like and this? It wasn't it. 

But something was wrong. He... he _knew_ something was wrong.

Brushing his teeth over the back of Ink's skull, Error murmured, "Hon, we can give you ten minutes, but we need to get dressed once that time is up. You... Ink, we're not the only ones who have been waiting for you to wake up."

_Nightmare..._ There was no fooling himself into thinking Error meant anyone else. "I... I just- I _need-!"_ Time. More time than his husbands could offer.

_Something is wrong, something is missing,_ but he couldn't think of what. The cereal helped, but his thoughts still felt slow and his sockets burned with the need to close once more. The sleep he managed to get made a difference, yet his body demanded more. 

Ink resisted. _What's this feeling...?_ He still couldn't put a name to it beyond a sort of not-empty emptiness. _I feel like... like a puzzle missing a piece..._ Incomplete, like he was lacking something vital that kept him from being whole. 

Ink didn't like it, but... having his husbands close helped. Error, Reaper...

His breathing stopped.

_Geno...!_

Reaper and Error could tell the moment that Ink remembered their littlest husband. Tired, dulled symbols went fuzzy as Ink slipped into a brief daze. Them, within secons, he sighed and slumped into their embraces yet again, peaceful. A little proud too, judging by the smug tinge to the smile that settled on his face. 

"So, ten minutes...?" the artist murmured. 

"Ink-" Reaper's voice had a hint of warning. 

Instantly, Ink's smile fell and the artist whimpered, "Please don't yell at me... please, let's just... _please_ don't..." 

Error shut his eyes against the swell of complicated emotions within him. "Okay," he murmured, resting his head on Ink's and looking at Reaper.

Looking just about as helpless as Error felt, Reaper shut his eyes and withheld a sigh. He couldn't do anything about his emotions, but... he could at least try to hide other reactions. "Yeah, okay..." The god murmured, settling against them.

Soaking up the comfort their embraces offered, Ink settled down. His destroyer, his god... 

_And his Geno._

———

Although relieved to see Ink awake, Cross didn't seem entirely pleased when he came to collected the duo and found the taller skeleton ready to tag along. "Ink, he greeted, obviously torn on how to react.

The artist frowned a bit, greedily latching onto the slightest hints of emotion seeping through Cross' guard. After the truth of Geno's abuse was revealed, the shields Cross wore around them were never as strong during their moments of privacy in the unwilling nightmare's privacy. Now...? _What are you hiding...?_ Fear, concern? Ink couldn't tell.

"Change of plans, you three," Cross continued. "Error, Reaper. You two will remain here unless informed otherwise by either Nightmare or myself. Ink, since you're awake... you're to follow me to Nightmare. Alone. He... has a mission waiting for you."

Error's eyes blazed. "What change of plans?" 

"I just woke up..." Ink murmured, though it wasn't exactly a complaint. If anything, he was already resigned to being thrust straight into Nightmare's schemes. He just... wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with it. Hell, his voice was still weak from the rest he had whereas his mind felt slow due to the rest he still needed.

Cross didn't make a move to answer the question, or to comment on Ink's state of consciousness. To Reaper, the scarred skeleton looked maybe a little tense or stressed, but that might've just been the god projecting onto him. To Error, however, Cross wore a transparent mask of someone diving into following orders. With an angry hiss, the destroyer squeezed Ink's hand and slowly let go. Reaper glanced to the displeased skeleton uncertainly. He leaned up to press a kiss to Ink's stain. 

_Please be merciful, please be merciful..._

Ink glanced between them, seeing the same anxious, uncertain fearful colors between them. 

_They had an idea what the mission would be, but not knowing for sure wasn't helping..._

Averting his gaze to offer the three a moment of privacy, Cross waited until the door clicked close and Ink's presence was felt behind him before leading the artist away. "...I'm sorry." he murmured once they were well on their way.

Ink couldn't see his colors anymore, but... he had a feeling that Cross was being honest with him. The reason for the apology was what truly concerned him though. "...Why?" Like the second, he kept his voice quiet and low. _No need to feed any curious ears listening in._

While their pace never slowed, Ink couldn't help but feel like Cross was trying to drag their walk out. Or maybe it was just the hesitation before his responses that gave that appearance? "...Everything that's going to take place today? You're not going to like it, Ink. The mission Nightmare has planned, the feast he plans to hold if you-" _survive_ "-succeed..."

They had three more halls to travel before they reached the throne room.

Ink didn't waste their dwindling time. "Geno?"

"...You're especially not going to like seeing him."

_Not like seeing Geno...?_ Ink grit his teeth and continued following. _Perhaps not, but I miss seeing him..._

Cross glanced back towards him. "Where are you going?" 

Ink looked up, staring at the hall that lead towards the two turns towards the throne room. Confused, he looked around to Cross, who was in a smaller hall off to the side. 

"This way, In- artist." Cross jerked his head down the hall he was in and continued to walk. 

Frowning a little, Ink shoved his fists in his pockets and followed. _Where are we...?_

They fell into a long stretch of silence that remained throughout the duration of their walk. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes but, to Ink, it felt as if hours passed them by with every step. Down the hall, left, left, right, down another hall... Nightmare's maze of a castle was apparent much larger than he first realized and Ink was being lead far deeper than he had ever been taken before.

As if to mock him, the darkness grew the further they went.

_Geno would hate this,_ he thought. The way the shadows practically consumed what little light remained within the hallway was unnerving to Ink. To Geno? Every speckle of darkness would be a source of terror. _Have you woken up at all, Ge...? Have you seen this darkness?_ Perhaps it was cruel for Ink to wish for his husband's continued unconsciousness, but... he couldn't help but hope that was the case, if only to protect the small skeleton from his own terror. _...If he doesn't wake... then he doesn't need to be afraid..._ And if he ever was?

Well, Ink would take that in as well. Geno didn't deserve anymore suffering.

After quite some time, their small journey came to an end in a long, nearly empty hall they had to climb a set of stairs to reach. At the very end, a fine set of double doors sat. They were grand, yet somehow daunting. Just looking at them left Ink feeling... unnerved. A little frightened, though that may have been due to the emotion centered around them. Fear, pain, sorrow... the colors were old, but layered on so thickly that Ink could still see them swirling about.

_Those... feel familiar..._ he realized, and something within him ached at the thought. "Where are we...?" Ink murmured, slowly tearing his gaze away from the set of double doors in order to gaze upon the set they stood before now. They were the only doors within the hall aside from the ones at the end. Thankfully, they were less intimidating.

Cross glanced at him, hesitant. "...Nightmare's private wing of the castle."

Ink stiffened._Why...? Why am I here? Why is **Geno** somewhere in this dark place...?!_

Cross glanced away and knocked trice upon the door. From inside, Nightmare's purr sounded, "Come in."

Out of all the terrible things Ink expected to find awaiting his presence behind those doors, the reality was simultaneously a horror and relief in one.

The room was large, but all of Nightmare's personal property was grand in some way. Due to this, the over-sized space with immaculate, polished flooring and rich violet walls with gleaming, golden base boards was neither new or unexpected. 

However, the basic structure of the room was not what unnerved Ink. No, what disturbed him were the _contents_ of the room; the furnishing.

It was an expecting mother's dream: A sizable dresser with no less than eight drawers, what looked to be another, smaller dresser with a cushioned top that Ink recognized as a changing table, a short shelf full of supplies... Stars, and that wasn't even it. There was so _much._ Shelves on the wall stocked with unfittingly adorable toys, a cutely painted trash bin, a corner that looked to be dedicated entirely to children's stories and infantile toys... There was even another door within the room, though Ink thought it odd that it had a clearly sturdy lock on it. Supplies? Things you wouldn't want a wandering child to find their way into, but would need for their care all the same.

_Wait, there's... there's colors-_

Something shifted, catching Ink's attention and bringing his attention to what he thought was the biggest upset over what was undoubtedly a nursery:

In the very center of the room was a circular green rug with a _crib._ Gold like the accents on the walls, but too well crafted to tell if the color came from paint or the actual metal. Either way, it was clear that it was a fine piece of furniture, the wood shiny with polish and the cushion within looking just as plush as the sweet toys placed within. Hanging about the crib was a mobile that kept swaying with an unseen draft. It was that which drew his attention to the crib, but the blanket hanging over the railing was what ultimately stole away a majority of Ink's focus.

It could have been a coincidence, but Ink was almost completely positive that he knew that exact pattern of stitching 

"I know the decor is lovely, but isn't it a little rude to enter without so much as a greeting to dear Genocide and I?"

Ink tore his gaze from the stitches and searched the room slightly more. Tucked into another corner was a little seating area that Ink assumed was set up for any adults within the room to remain comfortable while watching the children. Two fine armchairs, a low wooden table, and... _there:_ A love-seat that Nightmare lounged on with Geno placed on his lap, both concealed by yet another blanket with a familiar knitting pattern.

Due to the blanket, Ink couldn't see what Nightmare had Geno dressed in that Cross assumed would anger Ink. What he could see however was the clothing the king of the castle himself wore, though calling it clothing was a bit of a stretch.

In truth, it was just a loosely tied black robe with his insignia on the pockets. 

"Good morning, Inky. Nice to see you awake." 

Clenching his fists tighter within his pockets, Ink whispered, "Nightmare," and nothing more. Let that foul creature's name be enough of a greeting.

Smirking, the king of the castle decided to play along with his little power move and nodded back with coolly spoken, "Empath," tossed Ink's way. Gaze flickering to the side, he met Cross' eye and motioned for him to step out.

The door falling shut behind Cross echoed like a gun shot in an empty alley.

"Take a seat, Empath. This may take a while."

_Seriously...?_ He didn't want to, but Ink obediently took a seat in one of the armchairs. He hated just how comfortable it was. "What, you're not going to make me crawl on your lap too?" he scoffed, foolishly brave when his body was still in dire need of rest.

Nightmare's smirk shifted into a lascivious smile. Gaze boring into Ink's, he purred, "Oh, you're definitely welcomed to join us if you wish, but I must warn you... Poor, sweet Genocide is a little under dressed to handle the chill of the castle, so you'll have to be sure to give him most of the blanket. Then again..." Obscured, a hand trailed up Geno's form to settle on his chest. "There's quite a few fun reactions to the cold we could toy with."

_Ah. So that's why..._ Ink grit his teeth in a mixture of anger and unwanted, instinctual pleasure. Swallowing the growl working up his throat, he crossed his arms in case any further touches would rouse his ecto and tried his best not to glare. _The fuck do you want?_ "May I question why you requested my presence today... my king?" Ink murmured. If he talked any louder, he was nervous he'd start yelling, and Geno didn't need that.

Pleased by the title, Nightmare grinned, "Originally, I planned to present this darling little room to your dear husbands. You see, I'm afraid this entire parenting business is a little out my area of expertise. Considering the practice the god and Error have, I thought they would have some useful input to offer while you... rested. I want the best for my heirs, after all."

At first, Ink thought he misheard the king. _Heir...?_ he thought, distracted by his own anger at Nightmare's audacity. Then, he took in the expectant look in the other skeleton's eye. The smug smirk, the disgusting, distorted glee... All those little things added up, and Ink realized that he was missing a letter. Not heir. _Heirs.___

_ __ _

_ __ _

Nausea churned his anger into horror. _Oh... oh gods... _ Stars above, Geno was- with- "You're lying," he accused, desperate for that to be the case. "Geno- we only saw one souling when he was with us...! We only saw-!"

Swiftly, Nightmare drew away the blanket hiding away Geno's form. Whereas others may have been distracted by his nudity, Ink's fear-bleached gaze dropped down to the glitch's stomach the moment his body was revealed. "Ge-" a wounded noise interrupted Ink.

Soul...s. Two little, perfectly shaped souls that would have been mistaken as one if an off combination of colors settling in hadn't shown that were overlapping. From the looks of things, the one in the forefront was gearing up to settle as a deep-red, or black. Barely seen over it, the second one looked... green? Or was it brighter? Darker? He... he couldn't tell for sure with the overlapping taking place and with just how early it still was for the soulings.

Stars, and it... it _was soulings. Ink couldn't deny it. He wanted to, stars did he want to, but he... he couldn't._

__

__

Geno was having twins.

"Perfect, aren't they?" The king murmured, smoothing his palm over the transparent ecto of Geno's stomach, right over the little souls. "Genocide and I seem to have created quite the perfect set of heirs. I wonder if we'll have a daughter, like he wanted?"

From Nightmare, the simple word sounded so foul. It wasn't just because of the force behind the children's conception, either. No, it was the lack of color the word was spoken with. There were no pinks or yellows... not even Nightmare's corrupted pride was seen.

He didn't love the children. Nightmare felt _nothing_ for them beyond amusement at the horror their presence stained the soulings with. _Cruel, disgusting_... "...What do you want with me, Nightmare?" Ink rasped. He... he had to change the subject. Ink he- fuck, he couldn't deal with this right now. He just... couldn't.

"Oh, I'm sure you're well aware of what I want from you... _Ink._ Given your poor memory, it may be fuzzy, but... yes, I think you're quite aware of what I desire from you." There was a strange weight to Nightmare's stare as he spoke. Then, he glanced down at the nude glitch he held and the stare shifted into the look of someone gazing upon a favored toy. "You know, dealing with little Genocide's current state can be quite the struggle. I do try to keep him company often, but it seems like he's gotten used to your presence in... wherever you are when that fun little connection of yours is active. Why, he's even shed a few tears these last two days."

The shift in conversation threw Ink off balance, but he was quick to recover. _Lying, he... he has to be lying..._ No matter what they did or said, Geno didn't react. He never reacted. Why would he cry...? "I'm afraid I still don't understand why you called for me alone, my king."

"Easy now, I'm getting there. With poor Genocide so upset over your short vacation, I found that it soured my own mood quite a bit. Holding him, sharing sweet kisses... _passion_... None of it appeased him, so I too continued on with a poor mood. I thought of punishing you for upsetting both myself and the mother of my children, but I decided that I would be merciful. Instead, you will repay us with a gift. Why, you can even consider it an early present for the baby shower I plan to host soon."

Impatience and anger lashed through his center, but somehow, Ink was able to keep it from his eyes and expression. Distantly, he thought, _Error would be proud_. Out loud, he murmured, "A gift?" _Like, a painting? Is he commissioning me to make art with paints and inks and actual art supplies...??_

Admittedly, though shocking, that would also be a pleasant turn of events.

"Yes, a gift." He seemed to pout with consideration. "But which one? Oh there's just so many to choose from..."

_Choose from...? Materials? Yeah, I guess there **is** a lot of materials... Ink frowned slightly more as he watched the king muse to himself. Hold on... is this commission with him and Geno posing somehow together? Stars, is my first commission in months seriously going to be some sort of NSFW bullshit with my husband and my enemy? Because I might need to kill him if he-_

"Ah, I think I got it. I want you to _tear up-"_

"No." 

Before he meant to, Ink had already decided that he didn't want to do whatever the king asked. 

Nightmare stared at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. "...That was a little too quick, Empath. I didn't even get a chance to finish my sentence." He held Geno closer, stroking the shortest husband's face with a trailing claw. "I'll give you only one more opportunity to reconsider your answer, since I'm _so relieved_ to see you up and about again." When no other words were spoken by Ink, Nightmare continued, "You will repay us for your vacation with the destruction of Dancetale." He smirked, "Tear up the floors there. And the walls, and the people."

_Dancetale. Dancetale._ No, that... that was-!

_Ink tried his best to replicate the series of complex twist and turns accomplished by Dance, but all it resulted in was a tangling of limbs and a very loud, very hard thud. "O-ow..." he groaned, sure that his was spine was already well on its way to bruising._

_Like the asshole he was behind that innocent smile, Dream laughed. "I understand its called breakdancing, Inkblot, but I'm pretty sure you're not actually meant to break anything."_

_"I didn't!" When he finally untangled himself, no less than four joints popped. "...I think."_

_Chuckling, the golden guardian shook his head and stepped up. "C'mon, idiot. Why don't you try a waltz with me instead of doing your best to snap yourself in two?”_

_Well, who was he to deny such an invitation?_

_"Sure you can keep up with me, Dreamboat?"_

_And there was the smirk so little ever got to see. "Oh, I can take you, Ink."_

The denial was out his mouth before Ink could even think to hold it back.

_Red. Violent, dark, cruel red._

At least, that's what Ink was expecting when the reality of the second 'no' settled down with fear in his bones. 

Instead, Nightmare's eye seemed to light up. "Go bring Cross in here, and wait for one of us in your room." 

Tightening his grip on his own fingers, Ink tried to appease him, "My k-" 

**"Go."**

When Ink did as he was told, it felt like he was running away. And he was _terrified._ Because it wasn't **red** that Ink got to see. 

_It was Nightmare Yellow._


	26. The Big Ouch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which intent makes the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**: Soul mutilation/torture (yes, finally this tag is relevant!)

His husbands were quick to greet him when he arrived. 

Even before the knob of their door finished turning, Error and Reaper were there on the other side with anxious welcoming smiles and nervous fidgeting. "Ink-" Error began the exact moment he saw the skeleton in question.

Ink didn't let him finish, "I fucked up." And with that, he crumpled.

Error, Reaper... they were at his side instantly, calling his name. He could hear them, he understood their words too, but it... it was all just... distant. If Ink couldn't see their worried eyes and feel their hands shaking him, then he wouldn't have been surprised if he was told that his husbands' calls of his name from all the way across the castle. 

Across the castle...

...Where _Geno_ was. 

Oh gods, Geno. _His_ Geno... he... he was....

Staring at the floor blankly, Ink began to sob. _Okay, he's... Geno is okay_... but the lack of colors and sensation from the glitch were far from comforting. Any second now, that purple would spark in his poor husband's colors and set off an eruption of bright, destructive flames. Far off where Ink couldn't hear him, Geno would scream. Cry. 

And it would be Ink's fault.

But... the purple never came. 

_Nothing_ happened. 

Thirty minutes, and Ink's tears stopped flowing. 

An hour, and Ink was curled up on one corner of the couch, staring at the front door. 

Two, and the others began to really panic, worried for their artist. Their Ink. 

_Any minute... any minute, he's going to rip into Geno's SOUL... Any minute..._

Error and Reaper nervously paced behind him. They tried offering Ink water or food or _something_ to get his mind off whatever fuck-up he did. Error even raised his voice, but didn't get more than a blink in response. Reaper tried shaking Ink out of his mind. He tried crooning his name. He threw a pillow at Ink. Nothing. 

Then, the door was knocked on thrice, and Cross appeared. 

Glancing at the three of them, Cross murmured, "The three of you are to follow me. Error, Reaper, if you two try to stop any of what's about to happen, I'll be forced to... restrain you." _Or worse._

Visibly shaken, Error opened his mouth, "Cr-"

"Error, no. Just... just no. I can't-!" As he continued looking between the three of them, Cross' eyelights began to waver around the edges until the circular lights lost their shape. There were no tears, but the unsteady eyelights make Cross look unnerving. 

They made him look as though he was crying.

It took a few blinks before the lights settled back into shape. By the time they did, the second was able to work around whatever was stuck in his throat to continue speaking far more calmly than he felt inwardly. "What's about to happen? I can't make it better. Asking what awaits you? Getting an answer? It won't help, so... fuck, please don't ask. Don't try to make small talk, or even argue. Just... come with me. Use what little time it'll take us to arrive in order to prepare."

Error and Reaper exchanged looks just as Ink numbly stood up and walked towards the door. God and Destroyer gripped each other's hands tightly but forced themselves to let go in order to follow them out too. 

Though he tried not to, Error found himself trying to remember the last time he saw Cross cry, or even anywhere near tears. 

**Years.** And that didn't bode well for them. 

Silently, Cross led them out to the throne room, where Nightmare and Geno were surprisingly there already. 

Dread increased in the destroyer. _That bastard only ever shows up when shit is serious..._ He shot a look up towards Ink. _Fuck, squid, what did you do...?!_

Ink's gaze was downcast, but Error could see his arms shaking slightly. Fear? Nervousness? General distress? He couldn't tell.

There was no pomp and circumstance. The moment Cross closed the doors behind the trio of husbands and took his place as a guard before the entrance, Nightmare was ordering them all to kneel before his throne.

They did. With Nightmare already vengeful after Ink's action, there was nothing else the trio dare to do but comply with the king's demands.

"Good afternoon, nightmares."

"...Good afternoon..." They obediently replied. No enthusiasm laced their voices. No hatred filled their words either. There was just respect... and fear. _What are you going to do, Nightmare? What the hell do you have planned?_

With a bland smile and far too much excitement in his gaze, Nightmare gave them the answer they all dreaded but desperately sought. "Inky, Inky, Inky... denying me not once, but twice? And so soon after your failure with Red? My, my... how foolish. Your idiocy would almost be considered endearing if it wasn't born through undermining my authority. I've had enough of this... reckless disobedience. If grounding you like a child won't teach you a lesson, then I'll just have to make the consequences of disobeying me much more obvious."

In order for Nightmare to stand, he had to lift Geno up off his lap and out of his way. Only, Nightmare wasn't planning to stand, they all realized. With tendrils wrapped around Geno's arms, the king hung the glitch before his audience like a puppet from a set of strings as he readjusted himself, but he never lowered Geno back down. Even when Nightmare finally settled into place on the very edge of his seat, Geno remained in the air, limp.

"You ignore all _my_ warnings. You ignore the lessons _I_ try to teach. Well then, maybe this time you'll finally learn." In a mockery of an embrace, Nightmare brought Geno closer and dropped his chin onto the glitch's shoulder while his arms wrapped around the dead-eyed glitch from behind. With an unnecessary flourish, Geno's SOUL appeared in his hands; held right before the sternum it should have been safely housed behind. "Did you know that sweet little Genocide's SOUL is rather... sturdy? Perhaps it's a side effect of all the pain he endured? Oh, or maybe it's that lovely _determined_ spirit of his reflected by his very core? I'm afraid the only thing I truly know about this resilience is that it's quite... fun." How could a smile be so foul? "It's a good thing darling Genocide can take so much though, because he's going to help you all learn today. Let's see how willing you are to comply when it's dear, sweet Genocide teaching the lesson this time around."

Simultaneously, Error and Reaper felt horror encase their SOULs as they stared wide-eyed at the full picture. Ink couldn’t feel them past his own fears, regrets, and anticipation of Geno’s pain....

With an eager grin, Nightmare commanded, “Tell me when to start. Actually,” he turned to Cross. “Go and bring the others in.” 

“Night-?” 

“No.”

“M-my king,” with no angered words from Nightmare, Cross continued, “Bring the others…?” 

“Yes. Horror, Killer, and Endure,” impatience laced the king’s voice. “Really, have you forgotten your own comrades? Bring them here.” 

With a low bow, Cross was gone.

The artist’s hands began to tremble, though he wasn’t alone in his nervousness. _Having an NSFW commission would be so much better than this_... Ink found himself thinking. 

To center himself, Ink clenched them into fists and straightened his spine, eyes on Nightmare and the SOUL. 

“Oh, don’t bother,” the king smiled to the artist. “I’ll start once the rest of us are here to enjoy the show.”

It didn’t take too long for Cross to show up with the rest of the nightmares, or for those nightmares to get settled in kneeling positions next to Reaper and Error. 

At this point, it looked like Nightmare had several plans in mind for the SOUL. 

Foolishly, the trio of husbands and the rest of the captive audience expected Nightmare to simply rip into the SOUL without mercy; similar to the way the king broke bones: Rough, harsh, and almost too quickly to process the pain. _Almost._ What Nightmare actually had in store for them? It was worse.

_It was so, so much worse._

Nightmare’s tendrils were more than just a few extra limbs. The were _weapons_ and powerful ones at that. With a silent command, the limbs could easily impale someone and were even capable of piercing through brick as if it were wet paper. A soft, fragile SOUL? It had little to no defense against Nightmare’s tendrils. 

And the king knew it, too.

Before the eyes of those all called in to attend this so-called lesson, every tendril left unused curled around the soft, smooth surface of Geno’s SOUL. To Ink, the feeling was… strange. Ticklish in a way that tiptoed the line of arousal. It made him shudder, the stolen sensation trying it’s damn hardest to spark his ecto to life. _What is he-?!_

Ink’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when, all at once, the tendrils curled around Geno’s SOUL pushed their way inside; wriggling much like maggots worming their way through rotted flesh in an attempt to delve deeper inside.

SOULS were… contradictory little things. In many ways, they were fragile. In others, they were sturdy and could survive through quite a bit. This? Well… penetration of a SOUL was nothing new. Often enough, such a thing was used for sexual interactions, though _intent_ was required for the invasive penetration to feel pleasurable.

Nightmare didn’t want this to feel good.

Ink wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for that or not.

The tendrils sank in another fraction of an inch and distress reared its ugly head. Ink, able to feel the movement, found himself nauseous, but not yet in complete pain. Reaper and Error? They didn’t need Ink’s abilities in order to feel horror at what was taking place.

Distantly, some part of Ink acknowledged that the horror didn’t come from his husbands alone. 

Still squirming, the tendrils pushed further inside of the small SOUL but, now, the poor thing was beginning to reach its limits. The delicate shape slowly became deformed as too much attempted to fit inside. Despite this, Nightmare kept going, easing in more and more and _more_ of his limbs until the poor SOUL began quaking with the struggle to contain it all.

Although he wasn’t aware of the action, Ink began reaching for his husbands’ hands; seeking out what comfort they could offer.

Geno’s SOUL looked like misshapen balloon filled with too much air. Forcefully expanded, shaking… stars, it looked about ready to-

With an overly cheerful, startling _‘Pop!’_ the SOUL exploded just like the overfilled balloon it resembled. Ink, drinking in the pain, _screamed_ as he fell forward; gasping around the echoing sound of his pain all while clawing at his aching sternum.

And that was only the _start_ of it all.

Nightmare didn't let the SOUL dust. He tore it to pieces with his claws, squeezed it until it burst, and forced all the despair he could fit into it until the blackened surface of the SOUL was reflected the color of Ink’s tears. One method after another, Nightmare showcased just how malleable Geno’s SOUL was and all the ways he could inflict damage onto it.

Most of those methods he performed himself.

Some, Nightmare passed onto the members of his audience. Reaper, in particular, he seemed to enjoy calling out; the god’s original connection to Geno making for what the king deemed a lovely betrayal.

“Come closer, little bird,” Nightmare crooned in a mockery of Reaper’s own voice, “I have a task for you, this round.”

Although the moment of respite hushed Ink’s screams into quiet, pained whimpers, the sound of the artist’s wailed screeches echoed in Reaper’s nonexistent ears. That, paired with the thundering of his heart almost made Nightmare’s command go unheard.

Almost.

Trembling and ill, Reaper slowly drifted forward; untrusting of his own legs and the risk of walking. “Ye...yes, my king…?” he murmured, eyes averted from the lord of despair and the precious SOUL he carried.

A slick pressure beneath his chin told of the tendril spared to raise his head. Unresisting, Reaper allowed his skull to be angled so that his eyes had no choice but to fall upon the unfittingly peaceful expression Geno wore. _Geno…_

“It’s a shame, don’t you think? The artist of your little group is too indisposed to aid with my next trick, so I’m out an assistant. Won’t you help me in his stead, little bird?” Cooing, the king urged him closer, the tendril under Reaper’s chin circling around to push him forward by a firm press on the god’s nape. “Tell me, Reapsy… what do you know of whittling?”

_Whittling…?_ Like… wood carvin— no. _Oh gods, no. No!_

Sockets wide, Reaper desperately shook his head. “I… I d-don’t know how t-to whittle.” _Please, no. Please, please don’t… don’t make me-!_

Nightmare clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I see… perhaps Killer ought to give you lessons later. He’s quite skilled in the art.”

Tucked into Horror’s side, the skeleton in question merely shrugged; gaze distant and wide, enthusiastic grin born from muscle memory rather than actual intent. “...Sounds good,” he mumbled, speaking only when nudged by Horror.

“It’s settled then. I’ll remember to schedule that little bonding activity time later. For now, I’ll get you started myself. Practice makes perfect, after all, so...” grinning, Nightmare pressed Geno’s abused SOUL into Reaper’s hand. As he did, a tendril slid around the glitch’s neck. A warning. “Go wild, Reapsy!”

The moment the precious SOUL brushed against his fingers, tears Reaper thought to be dried out found L… it the strength to fall again. Stars, Geno’s SOUL was crying out. Voiceless, it wailed to be rescued from the abuse Geno couldn’t truly feel through various vague sensations that allowed it’s message to be heard.

_I’m hurting! I’m hurting! Stop it, please! Stop!_

Hurting, but somehow not _dying…_

He wanted to curl around this small, precious SOUL. More than anything, Reaper wanted to protect it from the torture Nightmare continued to afflict on the durable yet so _fragile_ looking thing. “Ni...Nightmare…” he choked, the whisper a plea.

“You know the rules, little bird. Address me correctly.”

“My...my Ki-”

_“Correctly.”_

Trembling hold light around the SOUL in his grasp, Reaper shakily trilled, “Master,” for the king’s pleasure. Given an approving smile, he continued with his plea. “Please, I… I don’t know how to do what you want me to do…” _I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this! _

“I said practice makes perfect.”

Trying not to think of the talons he could form, the god swallowed, “I… there’s no tools for me to use…”

That gave Nightmare a pause. Smile frozen in place, he watched Reaper with cold, calculating eyes. Undoubtedly, he, too, was thinking of the god’s sharp claws. 

When he spoke; however, it wasn’t Reaper he addressed. “Error, come here. Oh, don’t mind Inky,” he went on, waving his hand dismissively when the destroyer paused in front of the sobbing, crumpled artist, “just… go around him. Come take a place next to Reapsy.”

Wordless, Error did as he was told. “...”

“Cat got your tongues, Ruru?” Nightmare teased, knowing very well the stress of the situation was what stole Error’s words. “That’s fine, it’s not your voice I need. No, what I require from you is a tool. A knife would be best, but… well, why don’t you give Reapsy-poo that nice, shiny knitting needle you have. You know, the one dear, _loyal_ Cross gave you all those weeks ago?”

Back pressed to the entrance of the throne room, Cross stiffened. _He… I didn’t tell him about the bet I made with Ink…!_ There was no way Nightmare should have known about the needle given to Error.

“Go on,” Nightmare urged, smirking. “I know your little habits, Ruru. You always keep your knitting tools close.”

Sure enough, shaky fingers pulled the long, thin needle from a hidden pocket in Error coat. There was a single strand of yarn curled around the needle that Reaper was instructed to dispose of when the tool passed from the destroyer’s hand into his own. 

“Stay right here, Error. I want you to have a good look at what’s going to happen. God, you may begin.”

“I… I…” Reaper trilled, voice high in distress. _No, no…! I… I can’t do-!_

Behind them, Ink began to choke and claw at his neck. The tendril around Geno’s own was tightening. “You. May. _Begin_, god,” Nightmare repeated firmly.

With little choice, Reaper shakily brought the needle to Geno’s SOUL. _I’m sorry, Geno. I’m sorry, Ink. Oh gods, I’m so, so sorry._ Hiccuping with his next sob, he drove the needle forward.

Ink screamed.

Eyes falling shut, Reaper clenched his sockets as he angled the needle in order to scrape a sliver of the SOUL’s surface off. It was… stars, he didn’t know what it was like. This was Geno’s SOUL, damnit. Not wood, or clay, or any other common material his brain tried to pretend he was carving into. 

“Open your eyes, god. You wouldn’t want to make a mistake, would you?”

_I don’t want to see!_ But he obeyed, and a whimper escaped him at the sight of his own hands bringing harm to two of the ones he loved. “How-” Ink’s scream raised in pitch when he broke off too large a piece. At the painful octave and horrible sight, Reaper gagged; his question lost.

“Are you actually getting nauseous from this?” Nightmare questioned incredulously. “The god of death, ill at the sight of a little torture? I would have expected a stronger stomach from you.”

_I’m mutilating my fucking husband’s SOUL!_ “H-how long d-do I have to do this, m-master?” Reaper rasped, trembling increasing at another mistake. _My hands are shaking too much. I… I can’t be careful…_ As much as one could be when performing such a terrible act, that was. 

Another jerky movement from trembling hands, another chunk of Geno’s SOUL that fell to the floor. 

This time, Ink’s voice gave out halfway through a shriek. 

Nightmare shrugged. “Until I’m satisfied.” 

_It… it doesn’t even look like a heart anymore…_ Error observed, ill himself at the sight and sounds from Ink. When another piece fell, he was quick to catch it; the other slivers carved from his brother’s very core cupped in his hands. Wordlessly, Nightmare’s tendrils had gathered the pieces and dropped them into his hands. Error got the message. _Reaper carves, Ink reacts, and I hold the pieces…_ that way, they all played a role in this terrible bullshit.

It was obvious Reaper tried to hurry, but his unsteady hands worked against him. When he tried for larger pieces to get through the torture quickly, his trembling would result in a too-large piece Nightmare forced him to pluck from Error’s hands and work on again. Smaller cuts only prolonged Geno’s abuse and Ink’s pain, but they pleased Nightmare the most. And just trying out normal cuts…

“No, no. Have some personality, Reapsy. Why don’t you try carving in some little swirls? Oh, I know! Make the remaining piece into a feather! Here,” rummaging through his pocket, the king of the castle withdrew a familiar black feather and placed it over the remaining portion of the SOUL, “I even have this as a stencil.”

And that was it.

Dripping sockets wide and form shaking with terror, Reaper stared at his own feather against his husbands SOUL and found that the nausea churning within him this entire time was now surging. _I used to wrap Geno up in my wings._ His hands were sullied the moment he first pressed the needle into Geno’s SOUL, but now Nightmare wanted to corrupt his feathers; his wings. It was… fuck, it was too much. Reaper couldn’t-! He… he-!

With a choked noise, he tucked the remainder of the SOUL against his chest before leaning forward and vomiting. Thin, pure magic poured from his mouth; Reaper’s meager breakfast long since absorbed in his body. The vomit lacked the usual horrid smell because of this, but the sight was still unsettling.

When cyan splattered against Nightmare’s shoes, his eyes narrowed. “Error, Reaper… drop the SOUL.”

Shuddering as he heaved, the god shook his head desperately and held the portion of the SOUL within his grasp closer to himself. “N-no, I… I’m sorry!” If we drop it, it’ll… 

It would fall in his fucking _puke._

At his side, Error shook his head too, ashen with the same realization Reaper himself had. It didn’t matter if it was just magic Reaper coughed up. It was _ill_ magic. For all they know, dropping Geno’s SOUL into the disgusting puddle of sick could have further repercussions for Ink to suffer. _And what about Geno?_

_…What about the **baby**…?_

Ink could take as many sensations from the glitch as he wanted, but Geno’s body still had to suffer. If illness passed onto him… stars, would it affect the baby? Fuck, was _all_ of this affecting the baby? With Geno’s stomach covered, it was impossible to tell the state of the souling housed within the glitch.

Aware of the concern within the two, Nightmare smiled. It was a cruel, vile expression of twisted joy. It always seemed to be like that. “Drop the SOUL, you two. If not, then we’ll find somewhere much more _fun_ to force that needle.” The fingers skimming the hem of Geno’s nightgown informed everyone present just where it was Nightmare was considering.

_No…!_ The panicked thought was shared among more than just Reaper and Error. As the ones with Geno’s SOUL in their hands, they were the only two able to react and, with heavy hearts, they let the fragments they held fall.

The moment spewed magic sullied the weakly glowing pieces, a wet noise wretched itself from Ink’s throat. Following the noise was a rush of black ink: vomit, though it was likely blood was mixed with the foul liquid. A terrible sight to witness from the artist but, unfortunately, a familiar one.

And yet, Ink wasn't stopping. As he hacked and coughed, the deep, rattling noise of choked out vomit steadily lost the slick sound of splattering liquid. The gagging became dryer; airier, in a way until the sound was little more than a wheeze.

_Something... something's wrong...!_ Ink could feel that much, but everyone else assumed the same just by taking in the poor sight he made. _Something isn't- fuck, it **hurts**!_ Far worse than almost everything Ink experienced from Nightmare's torture. _It-!_

With a dry, wheezing hack, Ink lurched forward on the floor and coughed up a sprinkle of dust.

At once, those closest to Ink seemed to freeze. _Dust? Here? How... how was he coughing it up?_

Nightmare leaned forward slightly more, smiling brighter than before. "Don't tell me this is your limit, artist? I must say, that's not very-" His eye widened slightly. 

Glitches. 

_Glitches,_ though small, seemed to buzz around pieces of Ink. His mouth, his chest, his hips, his lower legs. They were more centered on his chest and mouth, but still existed in other places upon his body. 

"...impressive," Nightmare murmured. Eye fixed on the artist, the king didn't seem to notice, or care, that every single member present flinched slightly in response. Unceremoniously, he mushed Geno's SOUL back together, watching Ink react and more tiny glitches rippled across his body.

_It... it hurts..._ but it also... didn't? Stars, it felt like Ink was dying; like the fire he so often compared rage to was burning him alive from within. And yet... 

No matter how hotly the purple within him burned, Ink found that there was a lesser, gentler wisp of fire surging up to combat the intense color. Pink, yellow...? It was neither, but the softness of the other heat felt as sweet as those hues usually were.

_**Pain.** Comfort. **Pain.** Comfort._ The battle went on.

And as it did, Nightmare watched; socket with and _interested._

Several minutes of that horrible battle continued, and Nightmare was enrapt. He seemed to come to a decision when the SOUL vanished from his grasp. "God, Destroyer. You've both performed your duties well." He brought Geno closer to them, dropping their pregnant skelehusband carelessly on the floor. "You deserve some time with my little doll, but," he turned a dark gaze upon them. "Either of you disobey me, and I will be more than happy to repeat this experience for you." 

Shaking with the after-feel of mutilating Geno's SOUL in his hands, Reaper reached for his first but stopped. _Was this a trick...?_ he glanced up to Nightmare. 

Approval shone in his eye, "Good little bird. Go ahead and take him to your room. _Inky,"_ Nightmare turned his attention on the artist, knowing full-well that the poor former protector likely wouldn't remember or even hear his words. "Remember this little learning experience the next time you deny me. Error, take him and go." 

Error reached for Ink, planning on lifting him up into his arms. Ink whimpered, and glitches buzzed around where Error touched, but nothing else happened. Slowly, with shaky tears in his eyes, Error followed after Reaper. 

Distantly, they heard the king address the rest, "I was quite merciful, wasn't I? I even let them keep my Genocide. Continue with the chores I've assigned to each of you. Dismissed." 

It was too long. **Much** too long, before they finally made it to their living space.

Once inside, the two rushed their husbands upstairs into the bedroom. It went unsaid that Reaper would check over Geno and the glitch's child while Error would examine Ink, but the god barely had Geno settled down when Ink spasmed and let out a sharp, pained cry. Cursing, he made sure Geno wouldn't fall over before rushing to Error's side to help with Ink.

"What do we do?!" Reaper questioned, wincing as Ink lashed out in an uncontrollable jerk. The glitches were so numerous now that they _buzzed_ with their erratic movement, constantly shifting and moving as they popped in and out of existence. "What... Error, what the hell is happening?"

Touching Ink only served to produce more pieces of broken, wonky coding. Leaving him to lay on the bed resulted in the artist jerking around and twitching violently. Torn, the destroyer reached out and pulled Ink into his arms. "I don't know!" Trapping Ink's arms at his sides, Error ensured that his embrace would keep them bound before wrapping his legs around the taller skeleton as well. It made remaining seated a little difficult, but Reaper jumped in to provide support.

"Shit...! Shit, shit, shit!" Reaper cursed, repeating the mantra beneath his breath. Worried, he reached out and carefully took hold of Ink's face. "Inky? Ink, baby, can you hear us?"

Whimpering pitifully, the artist opened his eyes.

Red. Bright, startling ruby. 

But they weren't angry. They weren't _targets._

Just red circles. 

Red...

_Like Geno's **magic.**_


	27. Slightly Star Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we experience a tone shift because who needs an in-depth discussion about that trauma that just occurred when you can have fun and flirt instead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No active warnings for this chapter! Well, unless you consider Ink being a dumbass a requirement for a warning?

Red...

_Like Geno's **magic.**_

Reaper and Error exchanged glances, instantly making the connection. Practically falling over his own feet, Reaper took Geno into his arms again and carried his first back over. Shaking and wincing through the echoes of aches, Ink reached for Geno's hand. With Error's help, he was able to intertwine fingers with their smallest husband and soon let out a soft sigh as he relaxed into Error's arms more.

So quick it was actually startling, the glitches obstructing most of Ink went silent and still. One by one, a majority of them fizzled out, revealing smooth bone where wounds were previously glimpsed. A stubborn few remained over Ink's sternum, but the artist himself didn't seem concerned. 

Instead, he ran his thumb over Geno's knuckles, sockets falling shut and forehead resting against Error's shoulder. _Geno_... "...My Geno..." With the contact between them, the soothing warmth within him became easier to focus on. The pain was still there, but it was lesser now. Purple smoldering embers in place of a raging inferno. 

Hesitantly, Reaper reached over their precious glitch and gently skimmed his fingertips across Ink's cheek, stroking lovingly. Worriedly. Dust smeared, but the bone was entirely intact. "This... Geno did this? _Is_ doing this...?"

"But... Geno can't heal..." Error murmured. _C-can he...?_

Neither Ink nor the smallest skeleton of the four seemed to have any answers, mostly due to the fact that Geno was still stuck in his slumber while Ink himself was already drifting into a light rest, though mediation was probably the better word. 

"What... what the fuck...?" 

Error shook his head, mumbling, "L-Let's not th-think a-about this for... for a while... th-that was a lot t-to take in... and... And I think w-We jUSt nEeD ReSt."

Rest, huh...?

Carefully adjusting Geno in his arms, Reaper shifted backwards on the bed. In order to maintain what seemed to be direly needed contact between Ink and Geno, Error crawled forward and situated himself next to the god, Ink soon being pulled onto his own lap with his hand still curled around the unaware glitch's. Together, destroyer and god worked to ensure that Ink wouldn't be forced away from Geno. They didn't know what would happen if the artist lost contact with him. Admittedly, they were both terrified to find out, so they stuck close.

"If being this close to us gets to you, then let me know, Ru. I'll help you slide out from under Ink."

Silent, the destroyer nodded. _Let me have this,_ he pleaded to his own body. After the events that took place, he didn't want to be close to his husbands. No, he _needed_ to have them near; to feel Ink in his arms with Reaper and Geno both at his side. Like this, he could hear their breathing and reach out to feel their warmth. He knew that they were all _alive._ And that there was a certainty he desperately needed to relish in. They were safe, they were... not okay, but alive...

...and he was going to enjoy that while it lasted.

———

Energy drained by the chaos of Nightmare's punishment, the three slept through the rest of the day and well into the evening. By the time night rolled around, their exhaustion was still present, making it laughably easy to remain within the clutch's of sleep until morning when the husbands, sans Geno, awoke to find themselves all tangled up together.

Reaper was the first to break the silence with a murmured a good morning, though the quiet quickly returned after two half-hearted replies were sent his way. Neither him nor Ink were blind to the tears that filled Error's socket when he realized that they were all still there, but neither mentioned the relieved liquid sheen. Instead, Reaper simply pressed a kiss to the destroyer's head while Error squeezed Ink, the artist doing nothing more than simply existing within the arms of his first as he nuzzled closer to Geno. The glitch was closer to him than he remembered, but he assumed that was because of the way Reaper and Error were sandwiching them in.

'Comfy,' Ink tried to say, but all that escaped him was a dry, wheezing puff of air. He needed water.

Reluctantly, Error made to move off the bed, but Reaper stopped him with a hand around his arm. "It's okay, hon. I got it."

Error knew Reaper though. After Geno's absence and yesterday's events, the god was just as reluctant as he was to distant himself from either of their husbands. Still, Error didn't say no. It was selfish, he knew it was, but the offer wasn't one he could deny and, with a smile equal parts apologetic and thankful, he tightened his hold around Ink.

"Felling better?" He questioned softly.

A flat look kept Ink from attempting to speak again. Sheepishly, he nodded.

Reluctant to leave, Reaper stalled by pressing lingering kisses to each of his husbands' heads. Sneakily, Ink angled himself just enough to skim their grins together, bringing a honest smile to the god's face as he mustered up the motivation to vanished out the door in search of Ink's water. 

Questions kept running through Error's mind. So, _so_ many questions. _What happened? What were those glitches? Why were you coughing up dust? Are you **really** okay? What did you say no to that had Nightmare punishing all of us so bad? S-stars... oh stars, did he try to-?_

Ink whimpered and squirmed, twisting around to gently cup Error's cheek with a shaky hand as the empath searched his eyes. _I'm okay now,_ Ink said with his own soft gaze, stroking the frightened destroyer's cheek with his thumb.

The message was easily understood. Believing it? That was an entirely different matter, and a much more difficult one, too. "...Sorry." he murmured, lifting a hand of his own to steady the trembling touch against his cheek. "I... I'm just worried. I didn't mean to hurt you with it."

Shaking his head slightly, Ink pulled Error into a soft kiss, reassuring kiss. _Don't be sorry._ Concern was an emotion Error should never had to apologize for, not when it was evidence of the love he held for Ink. The same went for the rest of Ink's loved ones too.

It took another kiss until Error could manage a smile. "...If you're up for it, think you can answer questions? _After_ your water, I mean."

Ink rested his forehead against Error's grin, then settled back and held Geno closer to himself. The veil of white was still present, but deeper inside, Ink thought he felt something within his smallest husband. _Pinks? Yellows?_ It was hard to tell. 

_Still, it's... it's so... familiar..._

Eventually, Reaper came back upstairs with a tray in hand. When he reached the bed, he passed a cool glass of water to Ink, then another to Error as well just in case he was thirsty. Some snacks awaited distribution on the tray, but he set it down for now in order to tug Geno into his arms. Ink wasn't happy at losing his teddy bear, but he didn't argue as the god readjusted the glitch so that he was sitting, propped up against Reaper's body in a position that made it easier for the unconscious skeleton to take in the water Reaper slowly gave him from a third glass.

Ink shivered at what felt like ice permeating his body, though he knew it was just the water. Strange, considering the water didn't seem _that_ cold begin with. 

He drained some more of it from his glass before trying to speak. Despite his best efforts, all he managed was a raspy whisper. "So... that happened." 

Reaper and Error stared at him. "What do you mean 'that happened'?" Error finally asked. "Ink, _you were coughing up dust!_ How are you so... so **calm** about-?!" 

Ink squeezed Geno's hand. "I... think Gen h-helped a little..."

A _little?_ Ink thought Geno helped a little, but... "Ink, we don't even know what Geno helped _with!"_ Reaper exclaimed, voice dropping back down to a soothing tone the moment Ink flinched at the noise. "Hon, you were-!"

Reaper paused, gaze flickering between Geno and Ink. 

"Reaps?" Error pressed, frowning. 

"...You were dying Ink," the god admitted. "At least, that's what it felt like sometimes. And even then? The feeling wasn't _right,_ but I'm almost entirely sure that's what was going to happen. You'd be on the drink of death one second, but then you just... wouldn't be. Dead, alive. Dead, alive. And... so on, just like that. Inky," his voice lowered, "I haven't felt something like that since... Geno. Before his SOUL became whole, I mean. And now you're saying he helped you after you felt _just_ like he used to? Ink, I... I really don't understand."

Error stared at Reaper, stunned. "...Okay, were going to unload the fact that _you could feel Geno eternally dying_ later. Right now, I'd like an explanation too, Ink. I mean..." _don't shudder, don't look afraid-_ "Ink. Whatever happened, Nightmare found it interesting. _Impressive,_ he said."

That earned a hard flinch from the artist. He brought his other arm around Geno and closed his eyes. "...He knows I'm here..." 

"What-"

"H-he can feel that I'm... that... um, the connection...?" 

Reaper and Error exchanged glances. "What about the connection?" 

"...I _was_ dying," Ink admitted. "But I didn't." The empath's shoulders drooped slightly. 

"...What did he want you to do...?" Error asked hesitantly. 

Ink avoided their gazes, though he found courage when he shut his eyes. "Destroy Dancetale."

A pause.

Error snickered. It started small, but steadily increased into loud, bone-rattling cackles. As tears dotted the corners of his sockets from the force and he began to wheeze, neither of his husbands reprimanded him for laughing. It wasn't funny, but they were both aware that Error couldn't help the hysteria striking him hard. 

"You-! Y-you-!" The destroyer weakly rasped, clearly out of breath once his laughter died down into chuckles. Even with his inappropriate humor fading from his system, the tears remained in his eyes. "You said no to something that would kill you, so he tried to kill you."

Said like that, it made Ink's frown twitch. "Y-yeah..." but he didn't have it in him to laugh. Unlike Error, he couldn't afford the breakdown. Not now, with his connection to Geno something all the more precious and important to maintain. If he panicked, who knows what would happen to his control? 

Now that Ink knew about Geno's awareness of his presence, he didn't plan to leave him alone any time soon.

"He's... he's still- Ink you're going to have to-" 

"Ru, I _know...."_

"You can't survive that!!" 

Ink opened his arms, greedily accepting Geno back into his hold and smiling slightly as Reaper came along with, pressing close. "I survived Aftertale...?" 

"Barely..." Reaper whispered, haunted.

Error's thoughts were racing. No matter what direction they went, his train of thought kept hitting a dead end and couldn't go any further. _Nightmare **likes** Ink, but..._ was that enough? Nightmare's interest was a double-edged sword that could save you as easily as it would end you.

If Ink went on that mission with his life in Nightmare's hands...

"I... I have to talk to him..." Error whispered. 

Ink's symbols darted to Error. "No," he growled, voice firm.

"Ink-" 

_"Error, no,"_ Ink reached out and grabbed Error's hand, staring firmly at him. "No." 

"If you die-! Ink, I **can't**-" 

"I'm not going to die," he murmured. "I'm... I don't know how, but I'm... I'm not going to let myself die. Not here, not in a crumbling AU, not by **his** fucking hands. Or tendrils." 

He looked serious. Both of them could see that he looked serious. 

Error noticed the tightness in his sockets though. That... uncertainty that he was trying hard to hide. He wanted to believe himself. Maybe believe _in_ himself too, but...

"...And if you do?" he choked.

Ink's symbols flickered, but ultimately stayed firm. "I won't, Ru. Just... trust in me, okay?"

That was the thing. Laughing weakly, Error shook his head as a few droplets of tears slid down his face. "Ink, I trust you, but you're not the only person in this equation. If it was just you I had to put my faith in? I wouldn't be fucking worrying." That wasn't exactly true, but the sentiment in the statement was what mattered.

With Geno's weight pressed against Ink, Reaper felt better about taking up the artist's other hand. "But you're not the only person in this scenario, Ink." Error's train of thought wasn't hard to follow. "Nightmare is playing a major role, hon. It's easy to trust you, but _him?_ Inky, you don't what you'll need to do to survive. You don't know what plans _Nightmare_ has to ensure you don't."

"I'll live to spite him...." Ink murmured, squeezing both their hands slightly. _I... I can't think about me dying. I have to believe I won't.... Stars, I..._ He dropped his gaze. "Heh, I refuse to die before I'm ready."

Error erupted in another fit of unintentional laugher. Throughout it, he never once let up his tight yet trembling grip around the artist's hand. "You're a fucking idiot, Squid. _This_ is why you're a squidiot. You... spite is not a fucking survival tactic!"

Ink mustered up a smile. "It's _my_ survival tactic."

"Babe, no..." Reaper murmured softly.

Ink chuckled a little, but... the problem was still there. It was likely that Nightmare would push to see how far it would take for Ink to either break or dust, wasn't it...? And as much as the artist wanted to pretend that everything would be fine, he was loathe to admit that... his hope was starting to wane. The hope that they'd get out? 

He thought back to the mockery of a nursery he witness. The carefully selected colors, the finely crafted furniture, that damn crib...

Rooms like that weren't decorated with the intent of abandoning them. Nightmare had plans for them to stay for a long time. A very, very long time. At least, he had those plans for _some_ of them...

Ink dropped his gaze, falling silent.

Letting his hand go, Reaper reached for the tray and snatched up a pack of yogurt. It wasn't the most filling breakfast to be had, but something quick seemed like a good idea at the time. Now that he was staring at the little container however, he found himself doubting his choice. If they had missions today, then... "We have time to make something decent for breakfast before Cross arrives. Any requests?" They were all probably going to need something filling.

Rubbing the back of the artist's hand, Error smiled slightly. "Yeah, actually..." he murmured, still shaking fingers pausing their slight massage. "Not sure if it's doable though."

Interested now, both god and empath tilted their heads at Error. "Is it something Gen can eat...?" A little predictably, that was Reaper's first concern.

The destroyer smiled slightly. "Dunno. That... that depends on what Inky makes." His gaze slid to the skeleton in question. "...That is, if you want to cook...?"

Ink stared back in surprise. "You...?" 

"If you're willing." 

Well now... Ink smiled a little more, teasing, "I thought you'd want to take care of me." 

"Tch," Error rested his forehead on Ink's shoulder, grumbling, "If ya don't wanna cook-" 

"No, I do." _It's been a really long time... hasn't it?_ He looked to Geno, hesitant to let his shortest husband go. A look to Reaper, and the god instantly understood, gently taking his first into his arms. The artist tightened his grip on Error's hand and shakily stood. An echo of purple shot through his entire body. 

Error was by his side, "Ink, if you-" 

Breathing through the memory, Ink murmured, "I'm okay. Just slept too heavy, I think..." but he didn't let his husband's hand go. "It'll go away don't worry." 

_Worrying is all I've been doing, idiot..._ Error was smart enough to keep those thoughts to himself though.

In nearly a train, the four husbands made their way downstairs, where Ink found the strength to walk to the kitchen without Error's support, though the destroyer insisted on being nearby. Just in case.

Reluctant to be separated from his other husbands, if even only by a partial wall, Reaper followed the two into the kitchen and got Geno settled in on the small table inside. It wasn't used as much as the replica of their dining room table, but it was good enough for keeping the unresponsive glitch close. 

"You should grab a pillow for him, Reaps." Error suggested, eyeing his brother with a critical eye. Geno was seated straight and looked comfortable enough, but a little extra cushioning couldn't hurt, right?

Seeming to agree, the god nodded and scurried into the living room once he had Geno 'buckled' in with the use of the table. "Should I bring him a thin blanket t-"

A guest was announced by knocking on the door; Cross, judging by the familiar pattern of three sharp tapped out against the door. _He's early..._ But why? Already in the living room, Reaper tucked the cushion he held under his arm and drifted over to open the door with a wary expression. 

Cross met his eyes with a look of uncertainty. Where they stood with one another was somewhere far better than when Reaper thought Cross an abuser, but the last time they stood face to face alone... 

_A blade cutting through bone, talons retaliating, the spread of decay and the rush of wind from feathered wings..._

"I'll be quick." Cross muttered, unnerved without Ink or Error there to ease the awkwardness. "After yesterday's l-lesson, Nightmare has decided that all missions shall be put on a... hiatus, of sorts. Everyone will be notified when the king's schedules for the nightmares has been updated and the hiatus ends. Until then, you're free to use the next few days however you please."

"...That's it?" Reaper hedged when Cross trailed off into silence.

"For now? Yes. If anything changes, I'll be back to inform you." With that, Cross turned to make his way back down the hall.

Watching his back for the few steps he took felt... wrong, though. Maybe it was in his head, but the Second seemed dejected. Downtrodden, too.

Guilty, if the way he wouldn't look Reaper in the eyes meant anything.

So without much thought, Reaper called out, "If _you_ don't have any plans for today, do you want to come in? Ink is making breakfast. I don't know what-"

Very unsubtle while listening in from the kitchen, Ink shouted, "Pancakes, tofu, tofu-bacon, normal bacon, chocolate muffins, banana cream pie, breakfast tacos, aaand..." Unseen by the second and god, Ink frowned; sockets narrowed as he focused on his stomach. Why was he so hungry...? "Pickles?"

Reaper chuckled a bit, "We're having all that, I guess."

Cross stopped. Slowly, he glanced back to the god though still wouldn't meet his gaze directly. "That... that sounds good, but I-" 

"Is it intruding if we offer...?" Reaper tried for a smile. _Am I going to regret this...?_

Finally, Cross' lights met Reaper's pits, and the _faintest_ of smiles appeared on his face. "This isn't some... attempt to sneak me into your beds, is it?" He cringed, realizing how bad that joke really was, and opened his mouth to apologize. 

Reaper snorted and opened the door wider. "I doubt you'll be so lucky, but breakfast is still an option." 

Cross turned back more, glancing further into the living area. With one more look at Reaper, Cross ducked his head and made his way into the pseudo-house. 

He hesitated just inside the doorway. 

"Hey, Rookie," Error greeted. "Why don't ya set the table for us?" 

Meeting his equal's gaze had Cross feeling every bit the student still, and with that suggestion... well, Cross felt like the Rookie given the grunt jobs. Still, the familiarity brought his smile stretching just slightly more. "S-sure..."

Two steps into the kitchen, Cross froze; uncertain. "...And the plates are...?" 

Busy helping Ink with chopping various ingredients, Error grinned but didn't turn to face Cross as he addressed him. "Figure it out, Rookie." Inwardly though, he was relieved. Undoubtedly, the other second had a hand in the mockery of the house Error and his husbands lived in. That being said, Cross' memory was only shit if he was working too quickly to soak in the details around him. If he didn't know where the plates were... _He wasn't taking his time. He was trying to hurry._ Trying to get his part over and done with.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but... somehow, Error didn't think so. "It shouldn't be too hard for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Cross grumbled, casting a guilty look Geno's way before picking a random cabinet to inspect. "What does that mean?"

Error's voice slowed to a drawl, "You have a pretty big... _head,_ Rookie. I'm sure you can figure out a way to use it."

There was a loud crash. "...Thanks for that. You now have one less plate."

"I thought you learned about distraction techniques from me already!" Error turned somewhat innocent eyes on Cross. 

"Tch, shut up, **Teach.** I don't need to be harassed by you," but Cross' shoulders loosened slightly, and the tension in the corners of his sockets seemed to lessen, too. 

Ink laughed, though the force of it had him coughing near instantly. Error turned his attention to his first, eyes searching for dust or blood, but Ink waved him off, reaching for a glass of water. Cross and Reaper stepped forward too, uncertainly watching the artist to make sure he really was okay. 

"Art- um, _Ink,_ are you...." Cross steeled himself. "You seem to have recovered quickly?" 

"Um, y-yeah, mostly," Ink turned back towards the array of food he had ready to be made. "So, Cross, what are you craving today?" 

As Cross set the table, he thought about the list that Reaper and Ink had told him. "I don't think I've tried tofu...?"

Once he had the couch cushion tucked between Geno and the hard table, Reaper took up the task of helping Cross with the table. "Tofu, eh? Also, what does everyone want to drink?" Orange juice would be good for the glitch, so he grabbed a carton of that once the cups were set out on the table. 

"You're all fucking disgusting." Error grumbled, passing Ink the eggs he motioned for. "I'll take chocolate milk, Reaps." Not too long ago, he found chocolate syrup deep in one of the cabinets. 

"You, Ink? Cross?"

_Tofu...?_ Ink grinned, pleased to possibly have another fan on his hands. Accepting the eggs from Error, he expertly cracked open half the carton with a single hand. "I'll take tea, honey."

"...I'll have chocolate milk too, if that's okay?"

Error paused and shot Cross a look. "....I guess that's fine. Just don't break any more plates." 

Cross shot him a look, and Reaper let his own low chuckles out. _They're definitely comfortable with each other, aren't they?_

"Ok, go now! Shoo!" Ink waved his hands to them all. "Go sit in the living room or the dining room or something. Actually," He turned his gaze to the guard, "Cross, could you _give me a hand_ with something?" 

Error and Reaper exchanged smirks, but said nothing as the gullible guard made his way over. "Sure, Ink, what do you-" and he SCREAMED. "WHAT THE FUCK!? WHAT THE FUCK?!"

O-oh god, it was holding onto him! _Ink's fucking detached arm was holding onto him!_ With a loud, continuous shriek, the scarred second flailed his arm; panicking. 

In the middle of gut wrenching laughter, Error gasped, "D-do _you_ n-need a hand, C-Crossy?" before bursting into another loud fit.

Still screaming, Cross waved his captive arm at the asshole. "I HAVE _THREE_ RIGHT NOW, ASSHOLE! C'MON, GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!"

Ink wheezed, "I m-mean if you n-need to _get off,_ my hand is right there."

"I SAID GET _**IT**_ OFF!"

"Are you sure?" Reaper grinned widely. "It seems to like you~" 

_OH STARS IT WAS CRAWLING UP HIS ARM_

Still laughing, Ink stumbled over and took his arm back, re-attaching it to his body. Cross desperately danced around, shuddering and wiping himself down. Tears prickled his sockets and a bright, embarrassed violet flushing his face. "UGH. NO. NO THAT WASN'T FUNNY. STOP THAT-" 

"A-at least I can't do that with my eyes?" Ink wheezed out. 

Cross froze, a look of terror flashing across his face as he stared at the artist. "C-can you...? PLEASE FUCKING DON'T." 

Ink nearly missed the moment he needed to flip the bacon over with how hard he was still laughing.

Chuckling, Reaper shook his head at the trio and turned back to the fridge with a wide grin. He had the orange juice on the table, ready to be poured, but Ink was hogging the stove so the artist's tea would have to wait for now. So... chocolate milk time! Oh, and some of the apple he just found for himself. Huh, apple juice...

"I don't know, Criss-Cross, after that first training session we all had together?" Bumping the fridge shut with his hip, the god moved the cabinet. Chocolate syrup was... there! "Asking him to keep his eyes off of you seems a little unrealistic."

Recalling the the unsubtle ogling, the purple across the second's face darkened. "He can look all he wants as long as those symbols stay _in_ his skull."

"I can? In that case..." multitasking at the stove, Ink paused to flip a pancake and stir three separate pans before tossing a playful grin and heated look Cross' way. "Turn around, would you? I haven't gotten the chance to really appreciate the back."

They all erupted in laughter once more when Cross, greatly resembling a grape, pointedly _moon walked_ backwards towards the table.

Grinning widely, Reaper set the cartons in his grasp on the table and took up Geno's orange juice first. Pouring, he glanced up at the still glitch with his amused smile still in place. "Are you hearing all thi-" With a sharp chirp of surprise, Reaper went still; the juice he was pouring starting to overflow. "G-Geno?!"

Instantly, Ink and Error looked over to him, expecting their shortest to be awake, but being just as surprised to see him smiling. Faintly, but it was a change from the blank expression he'd been showing. "…R-Reaps, the juice?" Error reminded. 

Ink, curious and elated that Geno seemed to be somewhat responsive, dipped into their connection. The white veil was still there, but behind it... soft, residual purples, and light pinks and yellows, reflecting the colors Ink was feeling. Or were Ink and Geno resonating with their emotions? Pink burst within Ink, and the dwindling hope within himself bloomed slightly more. _Maybe they'll be okay?_

Stuttering an apology, Reaper set the carton of juice back onto the table and reached for a roll of paper towels to begin cleaning the mess with. The entire time, his eyes never left Geno; heart and SOUL both thundering within his chest at the slight but warm expression. _Geno..._

Cleaning up the mess took up a majority of the roll of paper towels, but the waste didn't dampen Reaper's drastically improved mood. Grinning widely, he cheerfully tossed the wet, orange bundle of soiled towels into the trash and began making the chocolate milk. As he did so, he trilled happily to himself.

_It's just a smile,_ said absolutely no one. A tiny expression from Geno... it was the first reaction not born from being in pain or sick to his stomach.

Still, Error couldn't help put poke fun at the situation. "Man, Cross, you're such a fucking dork that even Geno is laughing at you."

Cross peered curiously at Geno and seemed to soften himself. "Your husbands are real assholes, Geno." 

"Hey!" They chorused. 

Until Error shrugged, "I mean, he's right?"

Laughing, Ink nudged what he had ready to go out of the pans and onto various plates. There was still more to make though, so he was quick to wash what required it and got himself started on a few more dishes. "Can't really deny that." He agreed, smile wide as he reveled in the brighter hues felt from Geno.

"I changed my mind." It was no fun when everyone agreed. "Your husbands are _idiots,_ Geno. All of them."

Again, Error shrugged. "You're almost right." Table set to go, he began taking over the prepared plates. "Ink? Definitely. Reaps? Eh, yeah. Me? I-"

Casually, Cross quickly cut in with, "Once hit yourself in the face trying to pull up the blanket?"

Yellow-faced in embarrassment, Error spluttered. Once his husbands were done laughing at him, he whirled on Cross and hissed, "How the fuck do you know that?!"

_Don't look at Geno. Don't look at Geno. Don't look at Geno._ Expression blank, Cross shrugged. "...I have my resources."

Error narrowed his eyes on the guard. "Suspicious." 

From in the kitchen, Ink snickered. "Resources? Suuure." 

Cross stayed silent. No words means no way to mess up and spill the truth, right? 

Soon enough, the food was ready and set out all across the living room table. Everyone made themselves comfortable before pausing and glancing to each other. The last time they ate together... well, whenever the last 'family nightmare dinner' was... 

Ink shook himself out of those thoughts and bravely smiled at them all. "Breakfast, huh? Hope you all like it!" 

Unknowingly, Error smiled softly at his first husband. It'd been a long time since he'd cooked, not having wanted to intrude on Geno's thing. The first thing he grabbed was the bacon and a slice of banana creme pie. 

Of course, Cross gave him a judging look as he reached for the eggs, tofu, tofu-bacon, and actual bacon. "Really? Starting with dessert?" 

"Why not? And what's with that look? You're not my father!" Error shot back before smirking. "Unless you want to be called _daddy_ instead of _Rookie?"_

Reaper and Cross both choked on their drinks.

_This is nice,_ Ink decided, grinning around a forkful of pie sprinkled with eggs and tofu. It didn't sound good, but the moment it was in his mouth... "Oh stars," he groaned indecently, "thish ish sho good!" 

Smirk still in place as his fellow second and godly husband fought to cover, Error glanced at him; curious. When Ink made another combination of food-muffin, tofu bacon, and a bit of syrupy pancake- he faked a gag and scooted away in absolute disgust. "What the fuck, Ink?!"

Hm, needed more bacon. Maybe a bit more syrup too? Trying an adjusted forkful, Ink nodded with an accepting grin. "What? It's good!"

"You're tainting muffins with _scrambled eggs,_ Ink! **Chocolate** muffins!"

Airway finally clear, Cross cringed, "I... I'm sorry, you're eating _what?"_

Piling a bit of everything onto his plate, Ink considered what there was to mix before shrugging carelessly and trying to grab a bit of everything at once to eat. "It's all going in the same place, isn't it?" Scanning the table, the artist paused, distraught, "I forgot to add pickles!"

Error and Cross looked like they were about to hurl, but Reaper found himself glancing curiously at Geno. "Were you going to fry the pickles or just have them as is?" 

"I was thinking about stacking them on the pie." 

Reaper glanced back to Ink, tilting his head slightly. "Why? Do pickles and bananas sound good usually?" 

Ink looked disgusted, but still pushed himself from the table to dig in the fridge. A soft 'aha!' sounded, and Ink waddled back in with a bright smile carrying the jar. Once seated again, he tried opening it. 

Nothing. 

Ink stared at it with **betrayal.** Now shaking with laughter, Error offered a hand, "Need hel-" 

"NO, I **CAN** OPEN IT." 

Cross snickered. "That's a jar." 

Tears formed in Ink's eyes and he gave the softest sniffle, “Not yet…!” 

Panic replaced the amused expressions the Seconds wore. "I... I didn't mean it?" Cross squeaked, worried his joke was too much. He wasn't sure how, but tears definitely weren't the reaction he was expecting.

With a blink, Ink's tears began to fall. "Yes you did! I... I'm not weak, damnit!" To prove his point, the artist gripped the lid of the jar tightly and attempted to force it off. Nothing.

Reaper glanced down at the jar only to wince. "Honey-"

"No, I can do it!"

"Inky, hon, please-"

"No!" This time, the shut down came with a flare of crimson targets.

_Stars, it's not just cravings he's taking, is it?_ Ink was all smiles and laughter just a few minutes ago. "Inky, the plastic is still on the jar. You need to take it off," he rushed out all in one breath.

That gave him a second to look down. "....oh...." He ripped the plastic off then opened the jar easily. "S-see, I'm not weak..." 

Cross looked over to Reaper, a little startled. "What did I do...??" 

"Oh, it's not you, hon- um, Cross." Reaper settled back down with his food. 

Much to Error's disgust, Ink was indeed forcing a bite of everything onto one fork. "Honestly.... it's fine by itself, Inky." 

"Itsh goo lie chis too!!" 

"CLOSE YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU EAT!" 

Cross smiled at the exchange, especially when Ink made a point of saying random words while chewing his disgusting mix of food. _How did Error fall for Ink again...? Well, it doesn't matter. It's clear they love each other..._

Sensing his walls go up again, Ink turned eyes to the guard. "Are you okay?" 

_Nightmare's trying to destroy this, isn't he...?_ Cross picked at his food, having not heard Ink's question.

Their love... it was so obvious. And not just between Ink and Error.

Although seated at Geno's side, Reaper was near constantly reaching out to his other husbands to exchange foods even though everything sat on the table for his taking. Some bacon for Error's tofu, a bite of Ink's pie for half a muffin... it wasn't needed, but the god was clearly used to doing so. And when Reaper wasn't moving around bartering for food? Then he was busy easing sips of juice and small spoonfuls of finely chopped food into Geno's mouth for him to eat. Clearly, the god had the smaller skeleton well taken care of.

That didn't stop Ink and Error from glancing at Geno near constantly. At one point, Ink had to be tugged back down when he realized that what he prepared for breakfast wasn't as easily edible as it could have been. "I should have made soup!" he protested.

Error, pleased with Geno's still-present smile, shook his head. "Reaps has it taken care of."

"The eggs, tofu, and the filling for the pie are easy to feed him, Inky!"

And that was only a small bit of what Cross observed. This kind of affection... the kind of love they shared? It was real.

It was everything Nightmare _hated._

"Cross?" Ink tried again after a few minutes. After the first lack of response, he thought to leave the second to his thoughts, but the blank expression was starting to unnerve him. "Cross? Um, Criss-Cross? _Crissy-Crossy?"_

That seemed to get the Second's attention. "W-what?!"

"Heh, are you... are you okay?" Ink searched his eyes and expression. "You... you kinda got quiet there..." 

Cross fought the urge to observe Error some more, and instead met Ink's eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay." His brows furrowed. "Actually, I was curious about your... connection thing? Like... how does that work?" 

Ink glanced over to Error, unsure how to explain it. Error glanced back, misreading the look as _can we really trust him?_ Error shrugged, so Ink re-met Cross' eyes and said, "How do you think it works?" 

He shrugged, haven't given it much thought before the split-decision to ask about it instead of admit to his real thoughts. "Like the twins?" 

"Y-yeah.... well, I'm not sure how it works for them, but I can see it as much as I can feel it." 

He froze, though tried to disguise it as being lost in thought. "Can you see anything from me?" 

"No, that's why I asked if everything was okay...." Ink was still staring at him with slowly changing eye lights. Though he said he couldn't see anything, Cross still felt like everything was exposed to the artist.

What was the right answer here? 'Actually, no, I'm not okay. The monster I swore my **eternal loyalty** to is out for revenge and I don't even know what he's planning anymore or how to prevent it...' Yeah, that wasn't going to cut it. There was also the whole Ink being able to see emotions thing that was nudging Cross further into the 'not fine' side of things. He worked hard on his shields, but...

Cross wasn't perfect. He made mistakes and he _knew_ he made quite a few around Ink. What did he let slip through that the empath was able to see?

Actually, that posed another question. "What... what do you see? I mean, what does it look like to you?" Error was giving him a flat expression that usually meant he thought Cross was being an idiot. Why...? Oh. "It's... colors, isn't it?" Ink was widely known as an artist, so the expression from Error made sense.

Ink smiled, but the prying feel from his gaze never let up. "Yup! Emotions... they each have a color assigned to them. A lot overlap, but there's... differences to distinguish what I'm looking at. Red is an angry color, but it can be, well, _fun_ too."

Fun...? Oh. _Oh._ Blushing a bit, Cross coughed and reached for his milk, throat now oddly dry. "I see... So you just... see these colors? Even when you look at Geno?"

"See and feel..." Ink's smile twitched as if it wanted to fade, but when his eyes mercifully slid off Cross and to his smallest husband, his expression softened. "Yeah, even with Geno... it's like they're trapped behind a sheer curtain or a white waterfall or something, but... yeah I can still see them." 

Cross' fingers twitched around his glass before lifting it up to his mouth. _Does Dream know? Can you tell who's feeling what even if you can't see the person? Can you influence them like Nightmare and Dream can? Can you grow stronger of certain emotions...?!_

The destroyer stared at Cross with a smirk. _Once a student, always a student, huh?_ Years of training and caring for this idiot had Cross' desire to ask questions more than plain to Error. "Alright, Rookie, ask your questions before you explode into your diary later." 

"IT'S NOT-" Cross cut himself off immediately, scowling at his comrade. "Ass."

Error merely smirked in reply. 

Ignoring him, Cross turned to Ink, questions still racing through his head. Some seemed a little too pushy or uncomfortable to touch upon, so he decided to avoid those for now. Out of everything he thought of to ask though... "Does Sandman know?"

_Sandman...?_ Oh, Cross meant _Dream._ Heh, that was... that was actually kind of cute, even if just the thought of Dream left him with a heavy feeling in his chest. "Yeah," Ink murmured softly, "Dr- um, _Sandman_ knows. I... I actually wanted some help from him, but..."

With a vague motion, Ink gestured to the room around them. The meaning was clear, _We ended up here before he could help._

Not as light of a question as Cross wanted, but the information was useful to him. Still, he uttered a small, "Sorry," assuming there was some meaning by the blue in Ink's eyes. "Um, so... if you can see emotions can you...talk to Geno? I mean, like... if you say something, can you feel him reacting?" That wasn't going to keep the mood pleasant though, was it? "I... I mean... Nevermind."

Ink peered curiously at Cross again. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he said, "Were you wanting to ask him something...?"

Cross paused with a spoonful of food pressed against his teeth. _Did I want to...?_ Asking Geno something wasn't the intention behind his question. That being said... 

Dropping his gaze down to his half empty plate, the scarred second frowned; thoughtful. Geno was just to his left, but he did his best to keep his eyes to himself. "I..." had a lot to ask, actually. In general, Cross had a lot he would like to say. Apologies, for one. "...No, I'm good, Ink."

Error frowned. _He's lying...?_

A quick glance to confirm the color of his first's confusion: Suspicion? And those ever-changing lights were back on Cross. "Um... if you insist?" 

Reaper yawned and stretched. He scooted his chair closer to his first to slide am arm around Geno. Ink's grin twitched upwards before he processed the warm, soft pink flowing between the two husbands, unseen by them but so obvious to the empath in front of them. 

The guard caught Error staring down at him, but dodged his gaze in favor of finishing his plate. "Um... I can do dishes, if everyone's done?" 

Error stood. "Yeah, I'll package the leftovers." He started picking up plates, pressing a kiss to Ink's head as he passed. "Thanks for breakfast, squidiot. It wasn't terrible." 

Laughing, Ink watched him walk into the kitchen, "You know, I won't deny a real compliment from you?" 

"Where's the fun in that if you know what I'm really meaning?" the smile Error returned was soft with that emotion Cross still wasn't used to seeing on his face.

_He never used to smile like that before..._ Then again, what reason had anyone ever given Error to express such a soft emotion? Error's smile was... it was more than simple warmth and affection.

It was love incarnate.

Feeling as if simply witnessing it was stepping over quite a few boundaries, Cross turned his attention away from the couple and down to the table. His plate still had food, so he was quick to finish that up before piling up the dirty plates. When Ink stood to help, he unthinkingly shooed him away with a light tap to a hand reaching out for one of the empty cups.

"I got it. You can sit."

"Oh, bossy~" Reaper trilled, rising to pull Geno's chair back and lift him. "You want to go cuddle with us on the sofa while these two clean, Inky?"

Rubbing his perfectly fine hand with a pout, the artist nodded and followed after the god and their littlest husband, thus leaving Error and Cross behind in silence. 

It wasn't uncomfortable though; something both were thankful for. Error silently worked on putting everything left untouched away while Cross began cleaning the first few dishes. When Error was done, he joined his fellow Second at the sink to help dry and replace the dishes where they belonged. They didn't speak the entire time, but it was fine. Comforting, even.

And then, once the last dish was passed into Error's hand, he finally spoke. More than a little lost in thought at that point, he murmured, "Thanks, hon," and accepted a small plate in exchange for a kiss to Cross' cheek.

Both froze and stared each other in the eye. "That..." Error took a step back. "That- THAT... _THAT-"_

"D-D-Didn't h-h-happen...?!" Cross' face was an explosion of purple hues. Frankly adorable- 

"E-exactly...!" 

But neither of them moved, uncertain of the other. 

"Cross...."

"Y-?!" Cross cleared his throat, dropping his voice slightly, "Uh, yeah?"

But Error... couldn't bring himself to ask. _Why are you blushing so hard?_ For some reason, the words weren't working in his mouth like he wanted them to. Like he needed them to. _Why is he...?_

As the silence stretched, the purple smeared all over Cross' face only worsened. Shifting uncomfortably, the other second glanced away, then back, then away again; uncertain of where to look or what to do. _If... if I accidentally turned our mouths would have-!_ Okay, yeah. That was...

He wasn't going to think about that.

"Ruru...?" Ink called, peering at the wall concealing them with a curious expression. Cross' emotions were still being hidden from detection, but... _I can still see **Error's.**_ "Are you two being kinky? Are... oh my stars, are getting that good look at his bottom I wanted, Error?! Because if so, then no fair! I wanted to see his ass first!"

A blush flooded Error's face as he _finally_ looked away from Cross to snap, "NO! I'M NOT LOOKING AT HIS ASS, YOU ASS." 

Ink snickered, "Suuuuure doesn't **feel** like it, Ruru~!" 

"Tch, idiot..." Error muttered, turning away from Cross to dry the dishes and put them away. 

_.....WAIT..... WAS ERROR BLUSHING AT THE THOUGHT OF CROSS....?!_ Dumbly, the other second still stood there. _WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo...?!?!_

There... there was something there now. Something newer and separate from Error's array of colors. _Cross._ Ink was sure it was the Second's emotions he was seeing, though they were faint. _Something's weakening his barrier..._ but what?

Curious, he leaned forward on the sofa in an attempt to peer into the kitchen. Hm, no dice. "Reaps, can you see anything?" Most likely the answer was no since the god was pressed up against him, but it was worth a shot.

Predictably, Reaper shook his head. "The sink isn't close enough to the doorway."

As shielded away from their prying eyes as he could be with his mental shields breaking, Cross continued his silent freak out. _He **is** blushing, holy shit!_ "Holy shit," he echoed out loud, awed.

"'Holy shit' _what_ R-Rookie?!" Error tried to snap. It sounded more... flustered?? 

_Ohmygodsohmygodsoh-_ Desperately, Cross tried to regain control of himself. _N-no... nope, no, this... it's just u-um.... I don't know what this is...!_

Avoiding his gaze, Error muttered, "If ya wanna stay longer, feel free. I doubt _Boss_ gave us free reign of the castle while this hiatus is in effect..." 

At the mention of Nightmare, Cross' mind calmed down. _Right... even if I wanted, or he reciprocated...._ Cross sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Right..." 

Error slid his gaze over to Cross'. _...Shit, I didn't mean for him to get gloomy..._ But he hesitated in admitting... what? That if they weren't in this situation, he would't mind bringing Cross in? _Tch, I'm not an idiot like Ink. I know there's something here, but we can't act on it while Nightmare's still got-_

"Ru? Cross? Everything okay?" Ink called out, concerned.

Pressing a hand to his cheek, Cross cringed. _Still warm..._ which meant that he was still blushing like a protagonist. Great. "E-everything is fine, artist," He called back.

There was a huff before the empath responded with a grumbled, "It's _Ink,_ Cross," and a few other choice words the ex-guard couldn't hear, but assumed to be curses. 

"Sorry, Ink. Still, everything is fine over here." 

The kiss... it didn't mean anything. It _couldn't_ mean anything, and that was that. It was... fine, just like he told Ink things were.

_Heh, then why does your chest hurt, idiot?_ "I... I should probably get back to my own room, actually. It isn't everyday that I get free time and..." he didn't have a good excuse "...there's some shows on my list I've been meaning to watch."

The way Error was staring at him? He knew that look. 

_He knows I'm lying..._

Cross didn't give him the chance to say anything. He turned and left the kitchen. "Ink, thanks for the food. It was really good." 

Reaper craned (haha) his head around to watch Cross walk to the door. "H-hey, Cross, if you wanted to-" 

From the door to the kitchen, Error murmured, "He's got things to do." 

"Oh...." 

_Why do they sound so disappointed...?_ "Y-yeah..." _Why am I not glancing back to them?_ "Thanks for breakfast. I hope you're able to enjoy however long this lasts." _I... I'm not a coward... why aren't I...?!_ Cross opened the door and left. 

As one, Reaper and Ink turned their stares on Error. "What happened....?! What did you do?!" 

"Wha-?!" He scowled, "Why do you assume I'm the one that did something?!"

All their flat expressions served to do was increase his guilt.

_Rookie..._


	28. Cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which cafes are... nice places to be.

It took three hours of fake relaxation before Cross cracked and slunk off to Nightmare's office to request that he be allowed to leave the castle for some 'fresh air.' With minimum suspicion, the request was granted and Cross was heading out the castle and teleporting straight to a small safe house halfway across the multiverse. 

Well, he said ‘safe house’ but it was more of a ‘safe apartment’; shitty and smelly, yet easy enough to pay for to ensure the clothing he kept there had a hiding place. 

"Dream?" he called out into the phone no one knew he had. Trapping it between his shoulder and skull, he listened to the voice on the other end while struggling into a pair of tights. "Are you able to meet?"

It took no more than an hour for Dream to slide into the booth across from Cross, wearing... jeans? And a jacket? Stars, the shadows under his sockets look worse too... "H-hey..." Cross greeted softly. 

Dream sunk into the booth, "Hey.... are they okay?" he asked. A closer look to his companion had Dream murmuring, "Are _you_ okay?" 

_I... I should give him a progress on them..._ Even though Error was the one in the front of his mind. Cross stared down at his cup of tea. "I.... don't know..." and that was probably the most honest he'd been with himself in a while. _Was_ he fine? Physically, yes. Emotionally? No clue.

Dream, although clearly exhausted and troubled himself, proved his kindness yet again by placing Cross' own worries before his own. "What's going on with you, Criss? Talk to me." It was unusual for Cross to sound so... desperate when they spoke.

"...How do you feel about Error? And... and Reaper, Geno... All four of them, really?" He knew Dream was meant to be dating them. And that was it. His knowledge on the matter went no further than the five being an item and Dream missing them greatly. "I... I know it's personal, but-"

"I don't love him." The admission came quick, startling Cross. At the expression he wore, Dream cracked a small smile Cross didn't know how to read. "Error... in all the years I've known him, he's always been my enemy in some way. On the battle field, when it came to winning Ink's affections... I'd like to say I've never hated him, but I've been... jealous. Envious in so many ways or so many years. The idea of dating him... just a year ago I would have called it absurd. Now though..." 

"...Now?"

Eyes sad, Dream traced his bare wrist where his bracelet once sat. "Before all this happened, I learned that there was more to him. Ink always used to gush about Error, but I only just recently learned that what I thought were stories made from rose colored lenses are real truths; real reasons to fall for someone known as The Destroyer. I... I don't love him. Not yet, but... but those stories? I think they started the process for me. I just... need Error back for the chance to fully love him. To love the Error I'll get to know _in person."_

Cross had to clear his throat in order to get his words out. "And... and the others?"

"I had a date with Reaper..." Smile growing, Dream thought back to the date with a terrible ending. "I wish I had more time with him as well. Geno too. Like Error, I don't love them yet, but I know I could if they were here and I... I miss them. I miss every day that passed that we could have shared."

"You want to love them like you love Ink," Cross murmured.

Dream's cheeks colored. "Yes. I... Ink has been the center of my affections for years. I just... stars, I thought it was impossible, Criss. I... I really never thought he could love me."

"...You loved him even when he was with other people?"

At the question with an obvious answer, Dream floundered a bit. It was a probing question with a purpose, but what was that purpose? "Yes."

Gaze averted, Cross curled his shoulders inward. An attempt to hide. "...Error is _my_ Ink," he whispered, chest aching at the admission. "I think... he's been my Ink for years but... but every time I think I can- that we could-" Embarrassingly, tears stung his eyes. "I didn't step up when I should have, so I told myself it was fine. That I didn't deserve him anyways for just... just fucking standing there while this- this _bullshit_ took place. Error left and it was good and fine and _I_ was fine, but... he's back. He was never supposed to be back but he is and it's- it's more fucked up than ever. More impossible than ever but I...I thought..."

"Cross...?"

Trying to force the tears back, Cross murmured, "He kissed me. Just my cheek but... stars, for a moment I... hoped. I know he didn't mean for it to happen, that he probably zoned out and thought I was one of his husbands, but... fuck, I wanted it more than I ever did in that moment. I hoped more than I ever let myself hope... but it can't happen, Dream...." Quieter, he choked out, "...but I _want_ it to."

"We need to get them out..." 

"I k-know..." 

Dream reached across the table for Cross' hands, giving them a comforting squeeze. "Sorry... I know it's easier said than done... I know you're probably scared-" 

"Heh, scared just barely scratches the surface..." He squeezed his eyes shut and tried breathing through the tears. "I... d-don't know what to do... h-he's got everything planned out. **Everything.** And I only know _what I need to know._ D-Dream..." Cross tightened his grip on the guardian's hands, lowering his voice, "I think he's going to have them... bring an end." 

_Bring an end...?_ Dream's eyes widened slightly. _Destroy an AU-?!_ "Cris-" 

"I know... I... saw the aftermath of what a small training session did." 

_T-training...?!_

Cross continued, "I don't know what to do. G-Geno's SOUL... the souling, Ink's connection-" 

"Wait, Ink's connection-?" 

"Heh... apparently he's been keeping an empathic connection open with Geno for a month now." _I can't tell him about the soul torture... n-not yet... there's nothing we can do until they're out..._

_Stars..._ Dream groaned. _That idiot... how hasn't he dusted already...?_ It would've been more impressive if lives weren't in the hands of his negative brother. "What about Error and Reaper?" 

"Seems like they're doing their best to follow orders..." Cross shivered. "Dream-" 

Dream squeezed his hands again, slightly. "Okay... okay we're going to figure something out here..."

Cross sagged back against his seat. As he did so, his hands slid out of Dream's grasp until they rested on the table just out of the golden guardian's reach. "Dream, I... I just don't see _how."_

With his emotional state going haywire, Cross' hopelessness was extremely clear to Dream. Oh, the poor second was trying to maintain his shields, but they were weakening. _Hopelessness, fear, hatred..._ and the last wasn't just directed at his brother. It was aimed at Cross himself, too. "No matter how much time it takes, we will figure out something."

"Time... Dream, I'm not sure how much of that any of them have to spare. Geno..." Despite being trapped together, all of their circumstances were different. "His clock is ticking. At most, he has a little under eight months left until he brings _children_ into the castle. Your brother... he'll keep him alive after that for the leverage, but those kids? I don't know what he'll do to them, or what Geno will be willing to do to keep them safe. And that's just one of them, Dream. Ink, Reaper, and Error... I don't know what they'll face in those months. I... if I don't know what's really going on around here, then I can't help. You with information, them with safety..."

Dream fought to keep his expression from reflecting the pain building in his skull. _He's spiraling..._ "Cross, honey, I need you to stop for a moment, okay? Just... take a moment to breathe," Pushing himself up, the guardian looked to Cross with a small comforting smile. "Look, I'll get us some tea and something to go with it. We'll eat... and we'll _try_ to plan, okay? At the very least, we can brainstorm. Just... try to remain calm, hon. Focus in your shields." _Don't lose control. Don't draw Nightmare's eyes here._

Looking back up at Dream, Cross gripped his hands together and worked on his breathing. In, out, in, out, in... out.... in... his shields slowly strengthened until Dream couldn't feel anything from him again. Out, and Cross was able to look back to Dream, the stress just barely visible at the corners of his sockets. "We'll try to plan... just..." he took another couple breaths and let them go. "Okay. One step at a time right?" 

"Yeah. First step? More food." Dream glanced around, waving a waiter over to order with a smile.

They arrived with a smile of their own, quickly jotting down Dream's request for a pot of tea and some simple sandwiches to go with it. For Cross' sake, the guardian also added a slice of something sweet; chocolate cake to boost the ex-guards mood by appeasing his sweet tooth. In total, the entire interaction took only a handful of minutes.

"So, where do we start?" Cross murmured once the waiter was out of hearing range. "I can tell you more about what's been happening, but... none of it is useful, I think."

"Food first, Cro- um, Criss," Dream reminded, fading headache irritated by the sound of a bell ringing as the cafe door opened. "We'll eat, then talk. Sound good?"

"I..."

_"Sound good?"_ The guardian repeated, smile sweet but voice firm. 

Off to the side, a chair screeched as it was roughly dragged away from a table. At first, neither one of them paid it much attention, more than used to the irritations of dealing with rude, uncaring customers. 

And then, the screech of the chair stopped. "Yeah," a familiar voice rasped, "sounds good, guardian." With that, Horror dropped into the seat he had tucked into their table, a wide, unsettling smile left unconcealed by the shadow of his baseball cap's brim. "Mind spotting me some g for food? I'm out."


	29. Our Bargain?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... heh, well you'll see~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The portion of this chapter focusing on the husbands was edited!

Simultaneously, Cross and Dream tensed. Before they could so much as twitch for their weapons, Horror set a hand each on their arms. "You-!" Dream began in a hiss.

Warningly, the one on his arm tightened. "Easy there, guardian. You too, Crossy." A single red eyelight peered out from under Horror's hat. Gaze sliding up and down, Horror chuckled; amused by the sight of Cross in a dress and tights. _"Cross_dressing, eh? I'm sure you put some money into that pretty pink dress. Me? Used up my last few g on this nifty hat and pair of sweats. Don't make that go to waste by getting these clothes all bloody, too."

Gritting his teeth, Cross roughly shook the hand off his arm. Before Dream could do the same, he reached out and yanked the hand off of him. "How the hell did you find me here, dammit?" _And what am I going to have to do to keep you quiet?_

"Wrong question."

"What?"

"Wrong question, Crossy. Try again."

Surprisingly, Dream was the one to growl, "No games, Horror. Just answer his question."

Grinning, the skeleton in question shook his head. "The how? It doesn't matter. What does is the _why._ Since neither of you are going to ask though, I'll just go ahead and explain that." Suddenly, the smile Horror wore dropped off his face. "I want out."

Cross laughed, incredulous. "I'm sorry, you want-"

"Out," Horror interrupted. "You're not as subtle as you think, _Rookie._ Nightmare is more blind than he cares to admit, but me? I've been living three doors down from you for years. I know when these little meetings started. I know _why_ they did, too. Most of all? I know why they've been increasing lately."

"Do you?" Cross growled.

Horror didn't so much as blink at the angry tone. "Error." At the tense line of the guard's shoulders, he smirked. "In some way or another, these meetings have to do with _Error._ Only, this time? There's three extra skeletons weighing on your mind. Well, more if you count what the little one is carrying."

Beneath the table, Dream nudged his foot against Cross' when the dress-clad skeleton looked seconds away from pouncing. "None of this has to do with you apparently wanting out, Horror." When their waiter from earlier glanced at Horror questioningly, Dream begrudgingly nodded and lifted a single finger to signal for another sandwich to be added to their order.

Horror grinned, pleased. "You look at all of them like Kills," the grin wavered, "looks at a shiny new blade. I know you want them out, just like you wanted Error out all those years ago. Only, you're not as stupid as you look, Cross. Neither of you are. You want Error and the rest free?" Leaning across the table, Horror dropped his voice into a low, rasping whisper. "Then you need to deal with _Nightmare._ And you two _know_ it. Well, I want in on that so I can get out."

It was clear that neither Dream nor Cross believed him. When it came to voicing this, Dream stepped up to the plate with a slow, doubtful, "You've never seemed to want this before." Horror... he wasn't the worst of the nightmares, but he was up there on the list when it came to cruelty. Not that the list was very long… "What reason do you have for wanting out now?"

Horror didn't answer. He didn't need to. Eyes widening in realization, Cross blinked at his fellow nightmare; stunned. "...This is about Killer, isn't it?" If Horror truly knew about these meetings, then why show himself now? Days after Killer's 'appointment' with Nightmare?

The dark expression that slid onto Horror's face proved Cross correct. "...I came to the castle for two things: Food and entertainment. I stayed for a dumbass with a kink for knives and a smile that did shit to hide how fucking scared he was. Kills... he turned to the castle, to _Nightmare,_ so that he wouldn't have to hurt. Well, that ain't working anymore. Hasn't been for awhile, so I want out."

"And you won't just leave why...?"

"...Huh, so you _are_ as dumb as you look," Horror muttered. "Look, you know nightmares don't just up and leave. You want proof? Look at Dust. Red. Error, even. We try to leave and we end up dead. Or worse."

Dream watched him with narrowed eyes. "...That's not all."

"Heh... yeah, it isn't," Horror's claws reached up to scratch at his head. When he encountered the fabric of the cap he wore, he scowled and forced his hand down. _Fidgeting._ He was nervous. "Nightmare's negativity... it's like a fucking drug to Kills. Every month, he pumps him full until Kills' SOUL goes _black_ for a few days. When that happens, Kills... he isn't a good person. I know that. I know I ain't one either. But after his 'appointments'? Kills is a colder bitch than Nightmare... and reckless, too." Glancing at Cross, Horror tilted his head. "What he did to the pregnant one? Geno? That was a week after his appointment. He didn't care he was carving his face. He barely cared that the artist fucked him up over it. And that... I'm not stupid, Cross. That shit is going to get him killed."

"...Holy shit," Cross breathed, "you _love_ him."

Horror looked away, "As long as we're in that castle? Nah, I don't."

_He's afraid to admit it..._ Dream didn't have Ink's abilities to see the emotions swirling around Horror, but that didn't mean he was unable to feel them. Every time Horror spoke Killer's name, a particular warmth would blossom within Dream's chest. It was a sweet feeling. Gentle, endearing, and everything else he never would have expected from a nightmare simply because it was a feeling he experienced himself whenever he saw Ink. 

Horror really, truly loved Killer. And he knew the dangers of that love.

Still, Dream wouldn't so easily trust an enemy. He couldn't afford to with the lives dependent on this secret he and Cross shared. "So that's it? After years of loyalty, you want out because you want to... what, elope?"

"Elope, maybe settle down on a farm..." Shrugging, Horror fell silent as the waiter came around with their food and a pot of tea. Once they were gone, he took a large bite of his sandwich and continued speaking around a partially full mouth. "Yeah, that sounds good, but that's not it. I'm not putting what little good I have now in danger just for a _chance_ of freedom. I want in, but I want to make sure it's worth my while, no questions asked."

Cross narrowed his eyes. "What more could you possibly want beyond _freedom?"_

"I want Ink to help Kills." Before either of them could interrupt, Horror continued, "I was there for Nightmare's little show just like you were, Crossy. All that screaming? Nearly dusting on the spot? It was the little one's SOUL being tortured, but it was the _artist_ suffering. And not once did he stop. I don't know much about what being an empath means. I can admit that. Still, he did something to Geno and was strong enough to keep whatever the fuck it was going even while he was dusting on the floor. Whatever abilities he has, it's strong, so I want your artist to help Kills however the hell he can."

"You're asking a lot."

"I am." Taking a cup, Horror poured a stream of tea into it and sampled the near burning brew. With a disgusted face, he downed the entire cup then looked between Cross and Dream. "But you won't say no. Not unless you think it's time Nightmare finally got wind of these little dates between you two."

Uncomfortably, they exchanged glances. _When worded like that, we can't say no..._

"Dusting...?" Dream looked anxiously towards Cross, who couldn't keep his gaze. 

"...that connection I mentioned...?" Cross sighed. "Geno's SOUL was going through it, but Ink didn't let him feel any of it..." 

Dream stared at him, eyes widening with horror. "He-" 

"He's f-fine now! Um... more or less..." 

"Geno-" 

Horror cut in, "The little one seemed fine. 'Course, I wasn't right there." 

"Hold on," Cross turned on him, "Say we're somehow able to get you out, but the others are still there. What's stopping you from telling him anyway?" 

"Let's just say... the moment we're gone, we're _stayin'_ gone."

Yeah, because Horror's word alone was so damn trustworthy. "You know what? Fine." Damned if you do, damned if you don't and all that jazz. At least agreeing meant they had a chance of Horror keeping his word. "You want in? You want to help? Well welcome to the club, Horror." Cross' gaze was cold. "Just know this... if you screw us over, then I'll make sure I survive Nightmare's rage _just_ to return the favor."

Horror didn't seem concerned. "Whatever you say, _Ma'am._ Now," Tilting his head, Horror motioned to Dream's untouched plate. "you gonna eat that? Cause if not, then I'd like it. Seems like we're gonna be here quite a bit to plan."

Dream and Cross shared a look, already regretful of this new partnership.

———

When their alarm went off for the morning, Reaper, the closest, groaned and blindly reached out to fumble for the clock. Switching it off, he sighed in relief at the sweet sound of silence before cuddling back into his husbands; warm, comfortable, and desperately chasing the sleep attempting to escape him. Three days of hiatus and being able to sleep in was pleasant, but didn't quite change the two months of conditioning to awake early. Still, he tried his best to return to bed.

"...Fuuuuck." The god whined when his best failed. He was wide awake now, whether he liked it or not.

Already, Error and Ink were stirring against their wills, clinging to each other and sighing. Ink mumbled, "What does everyone want for breakfast...?" 

Error nuzzled his face further into between Ink's shoulders, grumbling, "Food." 

"....heh, thanks... that's so helpful." Ink stretched and cracked a socket open at Reaper and Geno sleepily. "Reaps...?" 

"Eggs-" 

"Cannibal," Error mumbled. 

Instead of bristling like Reaper would've, he chuckled, "Cheese and bacon too please. Maybe some pancakes." 

"Bacon pancakes sound good..." Ink pressed a kiss to Geno's head and wriggled, trying to get out.

Grumbling, Error clung onto Ink tighter. "No," he growled, eyes closed.

"Ru, I need to get up to make the food."

"No," the destroyer denied, too comfortable to give his living pillow up just yet. "And don't you dare use Geno's cravings or shitty hormones as an excuse to get out of this bed."

Ink wasn't planning on it, but now that the cravings were mentioned... Stars, he wanted an ice cream sundae. With peppercorn sprinkled on top. 

And Error wasn't going to stop him from getting it.

Reaching back, Ink coaxed the grumpy skeleton's legs around his waist. Error wasn't in the ideal position for what he had planned, so he hoped the tight embrace around his chest was good enough to help support his first. If not? Well, Ink was good at apology kisses. 

"Hold on tight, Ru."

"Hm, for wh-AAAAT! INK, PUT ME DOWN!"

Boosting Error higher on his back, the artist grinned and began walking out of the room. "Sorry hon, but you're the one who wouldn't let me go. Reaps, are you okay with getting Geno ready for the day?" he called back over his shoulder, speaking over Error's complaints.

Reaper chuckled but nodded, "Yeah, I'm good." 

Error clung tighter, pressing his face into the crook of Ink's neck. "Don't drop me." 

"Heh, I won't." Slowly, Ink made his way out the room and down the stairs. "But seriously, what would you like, Ru?" 

"Hmm....more sleep." 

Ink smiled a little more, watching his steps. "That sounds like something with chocolate. Maybe I'll make you a mocha... ooo and if we have ice cream..." 

A soft moan sounded from the skeleton on his back, "Yeah... I love when ya sweet talk me..." 

That earned a snicker from the artist. "I know."

Eggs with cheese and bacon, pancakes, ice cream, and some mocha. Not a bad breakfast spread. Smiling, Ink gave Error one more boost to ensure he was good back there before striding into the kitchen to begin preparation. "So, is that all then?" he asked, just to be sure. 

Error's arms and legs tightened around him in a poor attempt at squeezing Ink to death. "Shh, I'm sleeping now," Came the tired, moody grumble. "Pillow talk only happens after sex."

"But if I'm your pillow, doesn't that mean everything I say is-!" A yelp interrupted Ink just before color consumed his face. "R-Ru!"

Reaper's faint, distance voice called out to them. "I... I think Geno's blushing! ...Wait, why is Geno blushing?!"

Grin hidden in Ink's back, Error slid his hand out of the taller skeleton's sleep shorts. "It's pretty hot in the kitchen, Reaps!" he called back. To Ink, he murmured, "Forming your ecto in your sleep is a bad habit."

"It's not a habit." Ink whispered back, cheeks still bright with color but eyelights twinkling in amusement. _"Someone_ was having a dirty dream _while pressed against my back."_

"Now who would that be?" Error smirked.

"Some fucking trouble maker, I guess," Ink glanced over his shoulder at his first, smiling softly. "I'm assuming you liked your dream, hon...?" 

He huffed, "You're the empath, you tell me." 

"You probably would've liked it more if it was reality..." Ink stopped in front of the fridge, staring into it. "I'm going to need both hands for-" 

"Heh, that's what he said."

Without missing a beat, Ink shot back, "About my dick? Yeah. Yours...? Well, there's a reason you don't usually top."

Gasping with offense, Error let him go and dropped down. "Yeah, say that again when you're begging me to get your dumbass pregnant, you asshole...." 

Ink turned towards him, wrapping his arms around the destroyer's shoulders, smiling down towards him. "You know... heh... **you** know I'd be fine with that, Ru. Big or small, I don't care if it's you." 

Blush worsening, Error grumbled, "The fuck...? You're not supposed to be all sweet... you're supposed to be flustered..." 

Ink dropped his arms down, taking Error's hands in his own, and lacing their fingers together.

"...How do you always fucking win?" Error complained, lightly swinging their arms. 

Ink's smile grew. "I don't _always_ win, Ru."

The destroyer scowled up at him. "Sure you don't, dick."

"You know..." Ink murmured, closing the distance between their grins, "...you keep mentioning dicks in some way. Are you sure you don't want sausage for breakfast?"

With a crack, Reaper appeared in the kitchen with Geno in his arms. "Okay, so Geno is definitely blushing and I would like to know why," the god said with a wide, shit-eating grin.

He took one look at how close the others were before his grin widened even more. "Ohohoo.... so the two of you horn-dogs are making Geno blush, aren't ya?" 

"Not just us, _Reaps~"_ Ink winked at the god. A soft cyan colored his cheeks, but that grin didn't fade much. 

"Yeah, you're probably right..." He glanced between them again. "Do you need any help in the kitchen?" 

"No, I think I'll be fine." Ink pressed a kiss to Error's grin, murmuring, "I'll bring the food over." Smiling at him, he added, "We can all eat on the sofa like a bunch of little heathens." 

Error barked a laugh. "Sounds good." He stretched up on his toes, kissing Ink again before snatching some iced coffee from the fridge and joining Reaper and Geno on the couch.

With Geno seated on the god's lap, Error was free to tuck himself into Reaper's side, which he was quick to do. "All that foreplay wake you up?" Reaper murmured, turning his head to skim their teeth together.

Huffing a laugh, the destroyer chased Reaper's retreating smile for a firmer kiss. "Foreplay? Shit, you must be losing your touch if you think a bit of talking counts as foreplay." With one last kiss, Error finally pulled away to sample his coffee. "Have any problems with Ge?"

The smaller skeleton’s morning sickness died down ages ago, but asking about his condition was an ingrained habit by now. Still, he wasn't expecting much beyond a nod and confirmation that everything was fine. Maybe more teasing about the hint of color starting to fade from Geno's face.

Instead, Reaper's smile wavered. "No, everything went... fine." A little conflicted, Reaper dropped his gaze to the skeleton curled up on his lap. "There's something you and Ink should see. Um, probably after breakfast."

Error paused, pulling the cup away to stare curiously at Reaper. "...what...." he frowned a little. "Reaps...?" 

"Everything's fine, it's just..." he took in a breath, "But let's wait until after breakfast, okay?" 

Uncertainly, the destroyer nodded. He nudged the coffee over to his god, who drained half of it in one gulp. 

By the time Ink emerged with the food, some orange juice, and water, Error was leaning against Reaper and half asleep.

A little regretful that he had to interfere with the cute sleepy expression Error wore, Reaper nudged the dozing skeleton in the side. "Food, hon." Delicious food, too. 

"Feed me," Error murmured, eyes remaining shut as he let his mouth drop open.

Ink grinned deviously. _Well, if that's what he wants..._

"Are you sure?" Having caught the expression on the artist's face, Reaper felt like asking again would be merciful... even if he left out his reasons for doing so. _That expression never means anything good._ For the person it was aimed at, at least.

In response, Error left his mouth hanging wide open.

Grinning widely, Ink fed him a spoonful of food. From his plate. His plate where _everything was mixed in together with ice cream and chocolate syrup._

Error chewed slowly, face slowly screwing up with disgust. His sockets popped open, and he forced the food down, glancing around. "Whatthefuckwasthat," he hissed. 

Ink blinked at him innocently, "You said to feed you. We were feeding you,” and he showed Error the mixed plate. 

Error's face paled slightly, "What the fuck is that?" 

"My breakfast!" 

Reaper handed the destroyer his own plate, separated in different portions that made sense. Nearly snatching that with relief, Error murmured, "Thanks Reaps." 

"What? What about me!" Ink pouted. "I made the food!" 

Giving the artist a suspicious look, Error took a bite of the cheesy eggs. Then the bacon. Then the- "You seriously made sausage?" 

With a sheepish grin, Ink nodded. "After mentioning it, it sounded good to me."

Well, Error supposed he couldn't really fault Ink for his cravings. If anything, he was just glad that they actually had sausage stocked in their kitchen. _After the fit over the strawberries..._ Error shuddered.

"...You're thinking about the strawberries, aren't you?" Ink pouted.

Reaper grimaced. "Hon, that was terrifying."

"I wanted strawberries! I mean, Geno wanted strawberries!" That they didn't have in any shape or form. No fresh fruit, no frozen fruit, no jam or anything else with the flavor. "You can't blame me for being a little upset over not having any."

Pointedly, Error and Reaper slid their gaze over to the living room wall shared with the kitchen. Hidden behind a photograph shifted to the left was a hole. The size of Ink's foot. 

Near the _ceiling._

"Anyways, thanks for cooking, Inky," Reaper said before they could trigger another mood swing. "You even chopped up Gen's portions."

Ink smiled brightly. "Of course! Hope you like it Ge!" 

Error stared at Geno's... bowl? _Stars... why was Geno's breakfast combined like Ink's?_

_I think I'm gonna be sick... eggs and ice cream? What fucking maniac- Well... I guess there's two here now..._

He sighed and dug into his own food, glancing over to Reaper as the god took it upon himself to feed himself and Geno. Not that Error and Ink didn't want to or didn't in general. Reaper just... took over unintentionally, and the other two didn't want to get in the way of them. 

They ate in a comfortable silence, humming at the deliciousness of the meal and sitting close to each other. Ink teased feeding the others his mixed bites, laughing when they would shove forkfuls of their own food into their mouths before Ink got too close. 

Otherwise... it was pleasant. The entire past week was as such, once they got over the brunt of the stress of Nightmare calling the hiatus over. Of course, that resided in the back of their minds, but... 

It was nice to enjoy a damned moment. Or days worth of such.

If only Reaper's colors weren't flickering...

Discreetly, Ink glanced at the god in question. _Blue, yellow, blue, yellow..._ It was strange. Usually when emotions warred with one another there was some kind of mingling that went on with the hues, but Reaper's emotions.... They were strong; unsullied joy one moment then intense sadness the next with little to no interaction between the two. _What's going on with you, hon...?_

Not wanting to ruin the pleasant mood straight away, Ink waited until the coffee table was piled with dirty empty plates no one wanted to deal with just yet before turning to Reaper. "Hon, is everything okay?"

The battle between the colors found itself interrupted by surprise, then understanding. Knowing very well Ink saw his entire inner battle, the god sighed, but didn't speak just yet. Watching him think was interesting though, if only because Ink was able to see the colors finally, _finally_ merge, though he took note of the fact that the god's joy seemed brighter than his sadness. 

"Geno..." Reaper began just to fall silent again. After a moment, he sighed, "...Did... did you two know that he's- that isn't just one. One baby, I mean. It's..." A warbled noise of distress left the god's throat. "Twins. He... he's having twins..." Error's expression crumpled and Ink looked away. The artist's reaction was odd, but Reaper pushed forward. A little uncertain, he adjusted the glitch until Geno was facing them. With a wavering smile, he whispered a small apology to the short skeleton before lifting the shirt Geno was dressed in to reveal the notable increase to the curve of Geno's stomach.

A baby bump.

_Geno's baby bump_ with two glowing little soulings housed within, one a deep dark red and the other... well, the color was somewhat difficult to tell due to the overlap, but...

That same clash of colors appeared within Error. _Blue, yellow, blue, yellow,_ a grain of red was present in the mix too. Green.

The second soul was _green._

And yet, Ink couldn't help but soften at the sight. _Geno's baby. They're Geno's baby..._ he told himself, even as the color stung all their hearts.

They're_**Our** baby. Our children._ Because Ink wasn't going to let Nightmare get a hold of them. Whosever they really were. 

Gingerly, Ink reached out a hand, gently flattening it over Geno's bump. From Reaper's angle, he was able to see the little soulings flicker brightly.

_Red..._ The shade was far darker than the one Geno was associated with, but still... the first souling was red. Red! It didn't change who sired them, but it at least connected the little thing's core to their mother. "You're going to be so happy, Gen..." Reaper whispered, watching with sad yet soft eyes as Ink marveled over the curve of the glitch's stomach. "I... I mean, one out of two taking after you isn't bad, right?" And the color of the souling's SOUL didn't necessarily mean that they would take after Nightmare physically...

Determined to focus on Geno's parentage more than anything else, Ink smiled. "They're beautiful..." Eyes sparkling, he lowered himself to the floor in front of Geno so that Error could get a good look at the fragile children. "H-heh, guess they take after their mother."

Error inspected the souling for himself. When Ink's hand kept interfering with his view, he reached out and nudged the hand away for a moment, distantly aware of the way the bright flickering died down quite a bit with his own touch, but more focused on the darkness of the red.

_Oh, thank fuck..._ As dark as the red was, it didn't seem to have any hints of Nightmare's dark, foul green. And even the souling that _was_ green didn't look to be the same unsettling hue of Nightmare's eyelight. The overlap made it difficult to identify the exact shade, but the green... it looked a little bluish. Closer to tropical water than emeralds. "Yeah, they definitely take after Geno..." Hopefully, their physical appearance did as well. If they didn't look like Nightmare, then Reaper or Ink could probably pass as the father. Maybe even Dream? "That one though..." Error squinted, then tilted his head. "...Ge's magic used to be blue, yeah? Think that's why the green isn't so shitty?" 

"Ru, I want to keep touching." Ink whined. "And don't call _Geno's_ baby shitty!"

"I said that it _isn't so shitty! And stop putting your hand back on his stomach! I can't fucking see!"_

__

__

Reaper chuckled, gently resting his hand over Ink's. "Let him have a look at them, Inky. Because knowing you, you're going to try to hog up all the time." 

Ink pouted at Reaper, but moved away. 

Error was the only witness of the soulings dimming slightly more when both their hands moved away. _Is that just because Geno's comfortable with them as lovers...?_ Error shook the thought off to peer curiously at the soulings. _Yeah... Nightmare's or not, you're **our** child, dammit...._

Stars they were so small... He had to take in a sharp breath and veer his thoughts somewhere away from their two at home. _They're okay they're okay they're okay..._

_We need to get you home, little guys..._

Ink watched Error while Reaper dropped his head to Geno's shoulder, humming softly to them.

Smiling a bit, Error pressed his hand over the soulings so that they were completely concealed by his palm. "Hey, baby abominations..." he whispered softly. "I'm your dunkle Error, little brats." _And I'm going to do whatever I can to keep you and your mom safe._

As if sensing the protective intent blossoming within Error's SOUL, the little soulings briefly flared beneath their uncle's hand. Smiling wider, Error removed his touch to get one last look at them before moving back so Ink could take his place.

Eagerly, the artist jumped to do so. "And _I'm_ your daddy!" he cooed, smile a little too threatening to pass for sweet. _Nightmare doesn't get to claim you. He doesn't deserve you._ "Reaper can be your daddy, too. And Dream!" Voice softening, he brushed his fingertips over the soulings. Unlike Error, he made sure not to conceal them so that he could continue taking in their sweet colors. _The green is okay, the green is okay..._ "Would you like that, little babies?" he murmured, pressing as firmly as he dared.

_Heh, I can feel this pressure on my own stomach..._ Ink let up slightly, but brightened when the soulings seemed to twinkle. "Ruru can't be your daddy though. Just your dunkle. Well, if he's your dunkle, then he's partly your dad too, but that's just cuz we're all married-" 

Gently, Reaper placed a hand on Ink's shoulder, "Sweetie, you're rambling." 

Ink turned a pout up to him. "I'm just making sure they know!" 

Error chuckled, "I'm sure they won't really know until they're out." 

"Oh good! Then I can just explain again!" He turned back to the soulings and Geno. "Yeah... we have a big family for you, little one." He fought the tears that- well, that battle was lost easily. Multicolored tears dripped down his face. "A big family..." 

_Ah, Inky...._ Error and Reaper exchanged glances.

When their stare broke in favor of looking at Ink, both froze. "I...Ink...?" Error choked, sockets slowly widening.

The artist didn't seem to hear him. Frozen himself, Ink was watching Geno's stomach with a wide, dripping gaze' his ever changing symbols blown out in shock.

In particular, he was watching the soulings flicker _blue._ The very same blue of the sadness Ink felt.

Error and Reaper turned their gazes to the soulings, both freezing too. "I-Ink-" 

The artist backed up, shaking slightly, and the three watched as the soulings return to that wonderful red and somewhat distressing green.

_What... what was...?!_

Geno's blue tears from way back when came to mind and Ink scrambled to put more distance between himself and the unborn child. _Oh... oh gods..._ He did it again. Ink... stars, he influenced a _babies,_ this time. Two fucking poor, defenseless soulings.

"Ink?" Error called out, rising to his feet and taking a few steps his way.

Chest heaving with quickening breaths, Ink pressed himself flat against the front door. "S-stay back...!" He didn't know if this influencing stuff only worked with sadness and he didn't want to find out. Not by affecting his first, or any of his other husbands. "Error, p-please, stay back! I...I don't want to influence you too." 

Error paused. "What the fuck do you mean by _influence?"_

Ashamed, Ink looked away. "I... the soulings turned _blue,_ Error, because _I_ was crying."

"...Inky, t-they're _still_ changing color." Reaper whispered. 

Ink's eyes darted back to the sofa. Sure enough, the little soulings were flickering between it's normal red and two other hues. _Concern, caution...?_ Symbols flickering up, he watched Reaper's own emotions mirror the soulings' colors...

_...Or... or is it the other way around...?_

Ink approached cautiously- 

And that color seemed to glow that much brighter. 

Surprise. 

_Same._

Excitement. 

_A bright yellow._

"Oh holy **shit**...! Ru! Error are you seeing-?!" 

"Yeah, I'm **right here** you idiot." 

_Pinks._

More tears appeared in Ink's eyes, mirrored in Reaper's and Error's own. _What does this mean? How're they able to... to mirror our emotions??_

_Oh stars, are they feeling them too...?_

Hesitantly, Ink dropped to his knees in front of the couch and reached out with an outstretched hand. He didn't know if his abilities would allow him to sense the soulings, but it would make sense for him to be able to, right?

His fingertips brushed Geno's stomach; turning the younglings within yet another color to match the hue of his trepidation. Thankfully, he couldn't sense the actual emotion within them. _It... it's just a reflection...?_

When the little thing began flickering with a glow it couldn't quite maintain just yet in response to his touch, Ink cracked a small smile. "You're like little stars..." Yet again, they mirrored his emotion. Fondness this time.

"A faulty one..." Error murmured, not unkindly. "They're, what? Eleven weeks old? They won't be able to keep up a glow just yet. H-heh, PJ didn't-" with a startled gasp, Error breathed, "O-oh my-!" Laughter began pouring out from Error's mouth even as his tears fell faster. "They're fucking trying to glow!"

Reaper watched him worriedly, "E-Err-"

Laughter and tears mixing to form a sob, Error cut in with a pointed, "They're trying to _glow,_ Reaps! Fuck, Ink, you probably don't remember, but... Reaps, _you_ have to, right? From Goth? Babe, the baby is trying to glow for Ink. A-and...and you, I think? They even tried for me but- but it wasn't _strong._ Not like it is for you two!" Clearly the other two were still confused, so he went on, explaining, "Fuck, when's the last fucking time you've ever saw a soulling glow for someone who isn't related to them?"

Reaper's expression brightened almost instantly. "You mean-" 

"Yeah." 

"What?" Ink glanced between them. "A souling-" 

"These are _our_ children, Ink!" Reaper turned to him, smiling brightly. 

"Well, yeah, we just said-" Ink choked on his own words as he grabbed for Reaper's arm. "WAIT. WAIT YOU MEAN-?!" Whipping his head to Error for a confirming nod. Of course, that endearing 'you're an idiot' expression was on Error's face, but Ink was too excited to notice it completely. He turned back to Geno and the soulings, stars dancing in his eyes. The colors brightened when Geno smiled a little more, and the soulings seemed to glow. 

And Ink broke down into sobs again, bright yellow tears flowing between his fingers.

_Oh... oh stars... They were beautiful. So, so beautiful._

Realistically, Ink knew that the soulings looked no different than they did just a few moments ago, but the looming knowledge of their parentage tainted that. Tarnished the sight of the innocent little souls. Knowing that they weren't that cruel, disgusting _monster's_ child though... all at once, the burden of their existence vanished. Oh, Ink would have loved them. Reaper, Error... even their mother would love them too, no matter who their father was.

But it wasn't _Nightmare!_ This fact didn't change Geno's abuse at Nightmare's hand, but it at least meant little chance of _their_ children being a living reminder of a horrible act.

There was just one thing off about all this... Well two, but... maybe it isn't matter that the second souling was green? Maybe it was just a... a fluke! Aside from that though, "We... we haven't..." Ink's intimacy with his husbands never went beyond kissing and a bit of suggestiveness within the castle. If the children were really his and Reaper's... Brushing sunshine tears from his face, Ink reached out and took hold of Reaper's hand. Together, they rested their hold over the curve of Geno's stomach. "He was pregnant when he got captured..." Ink whispered. "Do... do you think he knew?"

Reaper shivered slightly, tightening his hold on Ink's hand. "I... I don't know... It's... um... I don't know.... I don't know, Inky..." 

Error rested his hands on their shoulders. "Hey... when he wakes, we can ask." 

Ink laughed a little. "Just add it to our list?" 

Glancing over, Error murmured, "List? Are we keeping a list?" 

_"I_ am." 

Reaper chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Somehow, I'm not surprised..."

Out of morbid curiosity, Error questioned, "...What's on the list?"

_How many times did that fucker touch you, how many times do I need to break his hands, how-_ Ink smiled and shook his head. "Nothing interesting, Ru. Not unless you're interested in cravings and breakfast preferences."

Reaper spared a moment to smile at Ink, but his attention returned to Geno and _their_ baby near instantly. "Hopefully his cravings die down soon. It'd be nice if he didn't have to deal with much one he was awake..." And Reaper meant that 'once' now, too. 

Geno returning to awareness... it would happen. No longer would Reaper fear it wouldn't.

Error stared at Ink for several moments longer, but decided to approach that later. His first smiled to Reaper and Geno again, but didn't move too much from any of them. "So," Error mumbled, "Who's gonna do dishes?" 

"Not it," Ink and Reaper echoed, smiling to Error. 

Grumbling, the second stood up and gathered their dishes. "Brats... all of you," but it was said with a faint smile and warm colors.

Ink grinned, "Love you, Ru~" _All of you. Reaper, Geno…_

_And the two little soulings flickering yellow beneath his palm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The portion of this chapter focusing on the husbands was edited!


	30. Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 'review' has way too many definitions.

Although they all knew that nothing good could last forever in the castle, the trio of husbands found it hard to fight off an overwhelming sense of dread when Cross' ever-familiar knock sounded on their door the next morning. 

The hiatus was over, it seemed.

Sighing, Error left Reaper and Ink to their coddling of his brother in order to answer the door downstairs. "Give us a few minutes to change," He said in place of a greeting.

Confused eyelights peered at him over a stack of boxes in the second's hold. After a few questioning blinks, Cross cracked a small smile. "The hiatus is still ongoing, Error. I just..." his smile faltered.

_"For now, everything we discussed today stays between the three of us. That means no informing Ink, Error or Reaper of anything we've spoken about and definitely no passing information to Killer. Until we have a better idea of just what we're working with, all this stays close. That being said..." Dream turned to him with a sympathetic smile. "Get closer to them, Cross. I know you have... reasons for wanting to distance yourself-"_

_"We're talkin' about his huge crush on Error, yeah?"_

_Dream shot Horror a glare. "**BUT** the best thing for you will be to keep them close. You need to keep their trust in you, so... let your guard down around them. Just be smart about it when doing so."_

"...would you guys mind r-reviewing one of my books...?" Cross murmured, face tinted purple as he looked away from Error's surprised gaze. "I... could use some outside opinions for my manga..."

Error stared at him for several moments longer. To the point that Cross started to shift his weight awkwardly. "...um.... E-Error...?" 

"....you... you want _us_ to... to review your... _manga_....?" 

"Y-yeah, that's what I said..." 

"Hold on.... you want-" 

"Error!" Cross fidgeted, gripping the box tighter. "Yes! Just... i-if you don't want to, then just say okay...?" He glanced away. "Y-you don't have to..." He murmured, stepping back slightly. 

"No, it's... I just wasn't expecting it. Uh... come in? And I guess you're gonna want chocolate milk again?" Cross stepped in, relief showing in his shoulders. Error couldn't help but poke fun, "Once a child, always a child, huh?" 

"Says the guy that also drinks chocolate milk?" 

Error shrugged. "My chocolate milk, Rookie. I'm assuming ya want some drawing pointers from Ink? Good luck. Boss hasn't really allowed him any art supplies."

Cross glanced down at the boxes he held. "Uh... yeah, I took that into account..." _This was a bad idea. This was a very, **very** bad idea,_ but it was the best one he had. "If you make fun of my shit again, I'll kick you."

"I won't, I won't... maybe."

"Error!" Cross complained, lowering himself onto the ground in front of the living room table. Grabbing the first box from his stack, he threw open the flaps and dug through it for one of his books. He tried to pretend his hands weren't shaking out of nerves. Personally, he thought he improved a lot these last few years. It's just... Ink wasn't simply an artist. He was known as an excellent artist. That was... intimidating. "I'm serious, okay? If you laugh at my stuff again, I will kick you."

"Relax, Rookie. I'm not going to laugh at you. Promise." Setting down a glass of chocolate milk in front of Cross, Error motioned to the stairs with his head. "Give me a sec, yeah? I'm going to try to pry Ink and Reaper away from Geno so we can move downstairs and look at your art diaries."

_"Manga!"_

"That's what I said."

Cross huffed, tightening his grip on his book as Error made his way upstairs to collect his husbands. Even more nervously, he thumbed through the pages, glancing over each of the drawings and notes and corrections. Cringing at every single mistake he could see clear as day. 

_Bad idea... such a bad idea... I... I can't. I can't-_

Ink was running down the stairs, "Art?!" He squealed. "Error said you had art diaries?!" 

"I-it's m-manga...!" 

Ink's eyes seemed to explode with stars. "Your manga?! Cross!! Cross Cross _Cross!_ You- yOU'RE MAKING A MANGA?!" 

Cross clung tighter to the book in his hands, nearly curling around it with nervousness- 

_Nervousness that was peeking out of his shields._

Ink just barely stopped his excited shaking as he stared at Cross with wide, sparkling eyes. Hopeful, interested, curious. The emotions so clear in his lights kept returning to the excited yellow starbursts.

_He... he really wants to see this, huh...?_ There wasn't really any doubt about that. Cross had eyes, after all. Even when he averted them, Ink's excited fidgeting could still be seen from the very corners of his vision. _Why did I have to choose my manga, of all things...?_

His drawings were... personal. The first time he attempted to design a manga, it was a whim. He got really into a show and it just... inspired him. His original work was shit, but fun and what Cross thought would be a passing fancy ended up being a real passion. Showing others that passion...

Stars, it was always embarrassing. Error called his manga writing diaries to tease him and all, but some of them _did_ feel like diaries; like sharing his work was something akin to sharing some of his deepest secrets. It was why he was so worried over Error laughing at them again.

Ink... Cross didn't think he'd be rude about it if his work sucked, but the artist _did_ have a bit of a reputation as an asshole, so who really knew?

"Cross...?" Stars dimming, Ink smiled in a manner meant to be comforting. In reality, the quirk of his grin looked more disappointed than anything. "You don't have to show me if you don't w-"

Before he could finish, Cross threw his arms out with the book held between slightly shaky hands. "H-here." Asshole or not, Ink's input actually would be pretty appreciated.

Ink perked up instantly and almost snatched the book from Cross. But his hands hesitated over Cross' own. "Are... are you sure?" 

Cross blinked, but glanced away from Ink's changing eye lights. "Yeah. Y-yeah...." Gently, he placed the book in Ink's hands and... well he couldn't decide if he wanted to step away or _run_ away, so he glanced to the kitchen for an escape. 

Chuckling with understanding, Ink offered, "Want some water? Or chocolate milk? Go for it!" 

"Yeah... thank you..." he was too nervous to even attempt a smile, and found himself retreating to the kitchen. Just to turn around and peek out at Ink. 

Ink could sense Cross' gaze on him, but didn't let that deter him as he cracked open the book and beheld the first page. "Oh..." 

_Good oh...? Bad oh...?! What-?_ Cross gripped the frame of the doorway and bit back his million questions. Error and Reaper made their way downstairs then, with Reaper holding Geno in his arms.

"Hey, Criss-Cross," Reaper greeted, drifting pass the poor spying second once he had Geno lounging comfortably on the couch. "Would you like some breakfast? Inky went a little overboard yesterday, so we have plenty of leftovers to pass around if you'd like something."

His stomach gave a quiet grumble that tempted Cross to accept the god's offer. After showing and dressing for the day, he gathered his things and made his way over without breakfast. Originally he did plan to stop by the kitchens for a meal, but nerves got the better of him. If Cross put off coming over here any longer, then he knew he wouldn't have ended up coming at all; so food definitely sounded nice.

And then Cross made the mistake of glancing back at Ink.

Expression blank and unreadable eyes narrowed with focus, Ink was still going through the volume of manga he was given to examine. He didn't look disappointed... 

But he also didn't look pleased.

Hunger twisted into nervous nausea and Cross shook his head in response to Reaper's offer. "N-no, I'm good." If it was okay, he would request some of those leftovers in a bit.

Error rolled his eyes. "Just eat, Rookie. Watching Ink like a creep isn't going to make him finish up any faster so you might as well distract yourself with some food."

"U-um..." 

Reaper gave pity on the poor guard, "You're not going to be able to read anything from him until he's done. So get some food okay?" 

Distractedly, Ink felt behind him until he found the arm of the couch. It took minutes for him to back up and sit cross-legged on the arm, staring down at the manga. 

Cross mumbled something and disappeared into the kitchen. Error and Reaper glanced between each other, both smirking, before Error followed Cross. Reaper turned towards the couch, gently setting Geno down by Ink before making himself comfortable too. 

Quietly, another page turned. 

In the kitchen, Error watched with crossed arms as his Rookie hesitantly pick through the fridge for what he wanted. "So, what are you really here for, Cross?"

Unseen with his back turned to Error, Cross closed his eyes; willing the headache he knew was about to form away so that he wouldn't have to suffer anymore during this conversation. "...Leftover cake?"

Snorting, Error rolled his heads at the back of his fellow second's skull. "Bottom shelf, near the back. Also, _bullshit._ If you're going to lie, lie better. And to someone who doesn't know you."

_How well do you actually know me?_ It wasn't a spiteful thought. Not like it would have been just two months ago when Error's forced return was still fresh. Cross... actually wanted to know. Error kept claiming to know him, but the longer Cross spent as a nightmare, the less he felt like the person he used to be. The Cross Error knew... was he even still around? 

"Whatever you're overthinking? Stop. I can practically feel the depression coming off of you and I'm not even the fucking empath."

"But you _are_ fucking the empath." Cross murmured. Spotting the cake where Error said it would be, he reached for it as well as what looked to be some sort of leftover rice dish. _Why is Error so quiet n-_

Oh.

_Oh._

Slowly, Cross turned around to meet Error's eyes. "...You're not wrong." Error said, amused instead of embarrassed. Cross was blushing enough for both of them, so why bother? "But are you going to answer my question or what?"

_"For now, everything we discussed today stays between the three of us. That means no informing Ink, Error or Reaper of anything we've spoken about..."_

"..." he pulled the cake from the fridge and decided on the distraction, _"Do_ we still know each other as well as we used to? Stars, Error, you're a father. You... heh," Cross shook his head and cut himself a serving. "I think... we both changed, and I want to-" 

"Overthink it until you get a headache?" _That tension in the small of his back. He's trying to ignore it, isn't he?_

Cross stiffened slightly and whipped his head back to Error. Who smirked again. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Heh, were you worried you changed that much?" 

_How... how did he know?_ Cross stared. _No... he couldn't have known, right...?_

Shaking his head fondly, Error reached out and took Cross' slice of cake for himself. "Don't look so surprised. You're _my_ rookie, Rookie. Six years didn't change everything." _And you can't hide the tells you never knew you had._

Cross stared at him dumbly, empty hand hovering in the air as if he still held his slice of cake. As he blinked at Error in surprise, two little word's bounced around inside of his skull: _"My rookie..."_

In a way, Error called Cross _his._

Cross spun around to grab himself a new plate just in time to hide the color that erupted across his face. _Get a hold of yourself, damnit!_

Error chuckled lowly, "When you're ready, come join us, ok? And don't mind Ink's face too much." 

Cross listened to Error's footsteps fade, before finally pulling out a new slice of cake. 

_My rookie my rookie my rookie_

_Gah! Stop thinking about that, fool! It...! It can't happen... not now..... not yet......_

Closing his eyes against the sudden sadness within himself, he brought the cake out to the living room. He couldn't bring himself to look- 

Reaper trilled softly in surprise, and a pager turned. A hushed, and excited, "But look _here,_ Reaps! The perspective is-" 

"Rookie, ya gonna say somethin?" Error interrupted. 

Mortified, Cross finally raised his gaze, looking between the husbands. With a blink, Ink blanked out his gaze, and Reaper tried to school his expression to nothingness as well. Error grinned innocently. "Enjoying the cake? Oh... you haven't even tried it?"

An old yet familiar brand of irritation was quick in overcoming Cross' embarrassment. It was what he once dubbed The Error Effect simply because the urge to throttle the other always resulted from that innocent smile the destroyer wore now. _Tch, innocent my ass..._ Error always smiled like that when he was purposefully being an asshole. What made that knowledge worse was that Error actually portrayed innocence quite well.

"Give me a chance to sit down first, dammit," he grumbled, sockets narrowed as he tried to glare the irritatingly cute smile off the destroyer's face. _You interrupted him on purpose, you ass!_ His scowl alone conveyed. Hopefully.

Error merely widened his eyes. Somehow, it made him look like a fucking **angel.** _Did I?_ the unfairly sweet expression said. Asshole. "Well, take a seat so you can take a bite. Let me know if you can taste the weird ass stuff Ink made that cake out of, because I'm pretty sure he's lying about half the ingredients he swore he used."

Without looking away from the manage, Ink chuckled, "You _saw_ me mix in the avocado and sour cream, Ru. Just because you can't taste it doesn't mean it isn't there."

Cross stared at the delicious looking slice of cake in horror.

Suddenly, Ink's opinion on his work wasn't the scariest thing he had to face.

"Why... why would you taint cake like that...?"

Ink still didn't look up. "I didn't taint it!"

"There's _kale_ in there, Cross. Ink is fucking liar." Error grumbled, innocent expression exchanged for disgust. "He tried to make the cake _healthy._ Who the hell makes a healthy celebration cake?!"

"I'm not going to feed our baby junk food!" Ink protested.

Cross paused in staring at the cake. _....**our** baby....?_

"Are you kidding? Chocolate cake has, like, half the good stuff! Eggs? Milk? Chocolate?" 

"SUGAR, RU! THERE'S TOO MUCH SUGAR!!!" 

Cross stared between the husbands, uncertainly. _Our baby? Are they just planning on raising the kid themselves or...?_

_Oh... oh gods...._

_Was Geno pregnant before-_

"Ya can't just cut out a quarter of their diet like that Inky!" 

Ink finally looked up, "Chocolate **shouldn't** be a quarter of their diet, Ru!" Though his voice sounded annoyed, his eyelights twinkled with teasing intent and mischief.

"Like hell it shouldn't! They're _my_ nephew-niece, Ink! That means I get a say in what they eat and I'm telling you that replacing chocolate with _kale_ of all things is... is.... It's inhumane, Ink!"

"It's _kale,_ Ru! Not some kind of drug!"

Reaper cut in with an amused, "Also, they may be _your,_ um, nephew-niece, but we're the dads, hon. That means Ink and I get first say."

"...Are you seriously supporting _kale,_ Reaps?" When Reaper nodded, the destroyer made it a mission to move as far away from the artist and god as he could manage. "When Geno wakes up, I'm telling him you betrayed us both by taking Ink's side on the kale debate. Let's see if he bothers writing _either_ of your names on the birth certificate after this."

Forgotten for the moment, Cross shakily set his plate down on the coffee table. When he tried to ease himself down in front of it, his shaking legs betrayed him and sent him crashing down. 

_Oh... oh stars..._ Geno was pregnant when he was captured. Geno was... he was.... "Fuck." Cross whispered, voice strained. "F-fuck, fuck, _fuckfuckfuckfuck...!"_

_All at once, everything Cross obediently stood on the sidelines for rushed to the forefront of his mind with horrifyingly vivid clarity._

_The save screen room. The cold, **dark** save screen room that acted as a constant source of terror for Geno due to his phobia. All the torment unleashed upon him whenever Nightmare abused that phobia with the lights..._

_The physical abuse._

Nightmare using the voices of Geno's loved ones to send him spiraling...

The conditioning Geno underwent.

The... the fucking _sexual_ abuse Cross couldn't stop...

Stars, and that wasn't even everything. _Night... Nightmare didn't give him much to each..._ Geno typically got scraps for dinner that Cross could only add to every so often. If... fuck, if he was _pregnant...?_

Trembling, Cross stared down at his lap with wide, unseeing eyes. _That... that kid needs a check up..._ Fuck, could you even giving a souling a check up? He didn't know. He... he didn't know anything about children, let alone one still far from birth. Cross didn't... he....

Hands cradled his face. "Breathe, Cross," Error commanded, voice firm.

Cross blinked several more times and tried through his sudden panic. He met Error's gaze, though it took _minutes_ before his vision seemed to focus enough to let him see the other second. 

Error slowly nodded, "Okay. Okay good. Just breathe through it, alright? Can you hear me, Cross?" 

Mutely, the guard nodded.

Relieved, Error dropped down onto his knees before his fellow second. "Okay, good. Good. Just breathe for me now, okay? In..."

Cross attempted to follow the cue. _In..._ and that was it. Although he inhaled shakily, he could get the breath to release in an exhale even with Error's next cue. _I can't do it... I can't do it! I can't do it!_

"Come on, Rookie! _Breathe!_ Breathe, Cross!"

Had he been able, he would have laughed. All Cross ever did in his this hell hole was follow commands that always seemed to result in harm to others. And now? Now, he couldn't make himself obey the one command that would prevent harm from coming to himself. Was this considered karma...?

"Cross! _Cross!"_

Heh, it would make sense if it were. All... all those orders... No matter how wrong they were, he followed them. And now? Because of... because of his... his obedience... Geno's _baby_ could be...

Could...?

Pain exploded against his cheek. Head snapping to the side, Cross exhaled roughly as if his withheld breath was startled out of him. "Wh... what...?" he wheezed.

Error's worried expression filled his spotted vision. "Shit, I... I didn't mean to hit you that hard." As concerned as he was, Error failed to realize that wasn't exactly an apology. "Are you back with me, Rookie? I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but stay right here with me, okay?"

Cross nodded mutely, blinking several times to bring himself back to the reality in front of him. All three of the aware husbands were staring at him with varying levels of concern- 

Oh. 

Ink looked scared...? Nervous? His... his eyelights were- 

_"Cross!"_ Error demanded. 

His eyes snapped to the blue-string skeleton. "Y-yeah...?" 

"Look at me. What are you feeling?" 

_Scared, anxious, **guilt.**_ "Um... a little hungry for that-" 

_"Don't_ lie to me," Error's voice dropped to a hiss.

Breathing shakily, Cross averted his gaze and tried to speak through the panic. "I... I'm just..."

Again, Error caught his skull between his hands. Although the way he turned Cross back to face him was forceful, it didn't hurt. Error didn't want it to. "Talk to me, Cross. Just..." Something in his expression shifted. "...Right now? I'm not your teacher. I'm not your prisoner, either. I'm your friend, damnit, so trust me."

_"I... I can't...! I can't, damnit! I... I ca-"_

_"Error," Cross cut in with a gentle tone. "It's okay. It's... fuck, everything is okay, got it? Right now, that bastard is all the way on the other side of the castle. Killer and Horror? They're off somewhere fucking around. It's just you and me, Error." Slowly, the ex-guard lowered himself down a few feet away. "It's just you and me."_

_"I can't- you're-"_

_"Cross. Right now? I'm not your student. I'm not another nightmare. I... I'm just your friend, okay? So trust me. **Talk** to me, you stubborn idiot."_

Weakly, Cross laughed. 

It was quick to turn into a sob. _I'm tired, I'm afraid, I'm... I..._ "I didn't know he was pregnant." he choked, blinking away tears and the memories collecting behind his eyes. Geno, Error, Geno, Error... with every blink, different scenarios flashed through his head. "I... I let," you "him get hurt. Fuck, I let _both_ of them get hurt."

The pressure from Error's fingers twitched slightly, but he didn't move them away. He gently rubbed the tears from Cross' cheeks with his own thumbs, "You were just doing your job..."

"I- E-Error, I shouldn't-" 

"Cross." Error squeezed his face slightly. "Listen, you... you don't really have a choice... _None_ of us do. Not a good enough choice, anyway." _Fuck... is this even making sense...?_ Error frowned a little, eyes narrowed on his Rook- on his _friend._ "We don't really have a choice, Cross." 

He squeezed his eyes shut again and leaned further into Error's hands. Behind the destroyer, the god and artist were exchanging startled looks. _He's... crying...?!_

Softening, Error gave up on trying to wipe away Cross' tears. Instead, he slid a hand to the back of Cross' skull and urged him in for hug. They were the same height, so he raised himself up onto his knees so that he had just enough of a difference between their positions to tuck the other second's head into his neck.

Rather than fight him on the move, Cross melted into the arms that came around him and snuffled into Error's neck; fingers curled tight in the clothing over the destroyer's back. _Stars, he really didn't know this, didn't he?_ If Cross was actually letting his guard down enough to _cling..._

He must have been far more overwhelmed than Error first assumed.

_This.... this is nice.... he smells the same-_ well of course. Nightmare let Error keep his signature detergents and soaps. _He was always the Boss' favorite..._ Cross clung tighter, further hiding his face in the crook of Error's neck. _This is strange, right...? Shouldn't **I** be comforting them?_

Error held him, rubbing small circles over his shoulders and back. There weren't any words good enough to try and fix the situation, so he didn't offer any. Softly, Ink murmured, "I'll... go warm us up some drinks..." They could hear him set the manga down, then his steps as he treaded into the kitchen. 

Reaper tried to speak up, but, like Error, didn't know what to say. _Thanks for not being a dick? Sorry you seem to be as much a prisoner as we are, even though you chose this and we didn't? Can you help us at least get Geno and our child home?_ And with them still not being certain about how unwatched the rooms were... Reaper leaned back in the couch and held Geno closer. 

By the time Cross got himself under control and retreated slightly from Error, Ink came back carrying five mugs of hot cocoa for everyone.

Accepting two mugs with a thankful expression, Error kept one for himself and pressed the other into Cross' trembling hands. "Drink up. _Slowly,_ okay? Don't burn your tongue."

Embarrassed by his fit, Cross merely nodded with an averted gaze. _Hot chocolate, huh...?_ It wasn't a bad choice by any means, but it left him feeling like a bit of a child. 

A warm weight at his side drew Cross' attention away from the sweet drink he had to try. Error was still before him, so he wasn't too surprised to find that Ink was the source of warmth bleeding into him from his left. What did throw him off a bit was the way the artist was just... leaning against him. Comfortably too, if the relaxed slouch Ink was in was anything to go by.

"U-um...?"

"You should really drink up before the cocoa cools down," Reaper said from his spot on the sofa. With Geno on his lap and two warm mugs in his hands, he had to resort to magic in order to push Cross' handmade manga closer to Ink. "It's better warm."

Meeting Cross' confused, uncertain gaze, Ink smiled. "I hope you don't mind yours spiced? Error likes it like that and I've found that it makes the warmth stick around longer." No questioning about what just happened with Cross. No pitying expression, or comment on the emotions Cross was positive Ink could now see around him. Just... normal conversation. "If you don't like it, I make another batch specifically for you."

Something in Cross' chest shifted. Without even a sip of the warm brew, the warmth Ink was talking about seemed to be pouring straight into his-

Cross' mug lifted, obscuring the shocked expression that flickered across Ink's expression at just what he saw from the teary second.

_Pink...?_


	31. Formal Wear Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's back to our regularly scheduled program!

Surprisingly, the hiatus lasted another few days, ending with Cross knocking on the door, informing them they had a half an hour before needing to be in the throne room. 

"Damn..." Ink whispered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Another thing..." Cross fidgeted. When Ink and Reaper turned their eyes to the second, they finally took note of how... formal his attire was. A black suit and a light purple dress shirt fit his frame very nicely. 

Reaper sighed heavily. "Formal gear?" 

"Yeah. There's a... ceremony of sorts to celebrate your trainings." 

"The ones that happened last week?" Error stomped down the stairs, frowning. "Seems a little _late_ don't it?" 

"Late.... dramatic...." Cross shrugged. "I'll wait outside."

The three shared a disgruntled look before turning from the door. "We'll be down soon." Reaper sighed, waiting until Cross was settled against the wall before shutting the door. "Error, can you-"

"Yeah, I'll help you with your tie. _Both_ of you."

Two sheepish smiles were turned his way. In response, the destroyer rolled his eyes playfully at his hopelessly husbands before following them upstairs. _Formal wear, huh?_ Thankfully, there was a suit or two in his size tucked away in their closet.

"I'll get Ge set up. Reaps, you and Error should get ready first." Out of them all, Reaper took the longest to dress simply because his reluctance to wear so many tight, restrictive layers always ended up with him moving slow and lagging behind. Error was good with clothes though and usually took it upon himself to stuff Reaper in his suits; getting the job done but soothing the god's metaphorically ruffled feathers with comforting touches as he did so. "Sound good?"

Sulking, the god nodded. Error was already digging through the closet for a shirt for him to wear.

They moved quickly, getting Geno situated and the fancy clothes on. It was probably good that they didn't get too comfortable with staying in bed. It wouldn't have been good if they were still struggling to wake up by the time Cross grabbed them...

By the time they were ready, they had a couple of minutes left to get to the throne room. Cross was leading them, and they followed the whole single-file, no touching thing. 

_How annoying...._

Cross glanced back to them once they got to the double-doors. "We'll be having a... brunch of sorts after the ceremony."

Ink frowned. He wasn't the only one to do so out of their little group of three. "What's all this really for?" There had to be more to today than celebration over training Nightmare wasn't entirely pleased with.

Cross didn't have any answers for him. At this point, he was certain that his title was nothing more than a nifty little consolation prize for stepping up when Error left. The power that was meant to come with being second? The knowledge? Both felt so lacking lately with the way Nightmare never truly let him into the plans behind his games.

Wordlessly, he opened the doors and step aside to usher the other three in. "Since formal wear was decided on for the ceremony, you'll find seats set out before the throne. They aren't technically assigned to anyone, but Nightmare expects you to be seated in the front."

_Seats, huh...?_ That meant that whatever took place wouldn't go by quickly.

While they stood by the front row seats, debating on who should sit where, the willing nightmares made their entrances. Surprisingly, everyone was wearing suits. 

_Ah no... is that asshole going to be wearing a dress again...?_ Error rubbed the space between his eyes, watching Killer cling to Horror's arm with a blank but vicious grin on his face. Endure trailed behind them, thumbs in his front pockets, and a slight frown on his face. Cross glanced to them all as everyone got settled in their seats. 

The minutes ticked by as silence reigned over them. Until the doors behind the throne cracked open, and Nightmare walked in wearing his royal garb. 

_Oh... it's a 'my king' day again..._ The thought was unknowingly shared amongst everyone there. 

"Nightmares," the king announced, smirking at his little joke.

As was expected of them, the addressed group of nightmares willing and forced alike all cracked a smile to appease the expectant expression. Pleased by their compliance, the king of the castle made his way to his throne and took his usual seat.

Once settled, Cross left his place by the doors in order to stand on the righthand side of the throne. Posture straight, he waited for his cue before addressing the seated group, "Good morning, nightmares."

"Good morning..." they droned.

"As you've all been informed of prior to your arrival, the hiatus we've been in has ended. Instead of jumping straight into missions; however, we'll be starting our return to work with a celebration of sorts. And since this _is_ meant to be a celebratory ceremony, it has been decided that credit will be given where it is due. Endure."

The Papyrus straightened. "Yes?"

"Your progress during training has been reviewed. Overall, you've proven yourself quite skilled in your weapons of choice. Furthermore, your lack of hesitance when it came to aid in the destruction of an AU was... impressive. You still have much to learn, but you have proven to be an excellent asset to our king."

Prideful, Endure settled back down with a grin. With him seated, Killer was called to attention next. Then Horror, followed by Reaper and Error. One by one, Cross delivered a glorified progress report until only Ink was left waiting to be addressed.

And yet, Cross stopped there and stepped back to his position at Nightmare's side as the king stood from his throne. "Empath," Nightmare purred, "I'll be delivering _your_ report personally. An honor, I know."

_Oh no..._ Error forced his hands to lay flat on his lap instead of curling them into fists like he wanted. 

"You've proved yourself quite a bit over your stay with us, friend," Nightmare smiled, stepping slowly down the steps to approach the artist. "Let's see... you've shown that you not only master every single weapon in my arsenal, but you are proficient enough to teach us." Step. "You can withstand a brutal beat-down." Step. "You can _punish_ those that deserve it." Step. "And you can feel the emotions of everyone in this room, isn't that right, my little empath?" Stop.

Though everyone knew already, it still made them stiffen with tension. 

"Well...." Nightmare closed himself off suddenly, smirking as Ink's sockets widened slightly. _Nothing... no color...!_ He took a shaky breath in but kept the king's gaze. "Not _everyone._ It's all... quite breath-taking. Quite spectacular and impressive!" He opened a hand in front of himself, and Geno's SOUL formed there. "So... I decided I wanted to gift you something. Something special, just from me. Something I'm _sure_ you'll appreciate." 

_Free? Is he letting us go?!_ Unwillingly, hope burst within the husbands' chests. Ink shut his eyes against the painfully warm feeling. 

_No... he's not going to let us go._

Still, Nightmare almost _giggled,_ as if anticipating a delicious meal. "My apologies, I meant to assemble this before the ceremony. See, I was just too _excited_ to see all of you." His thumb on one hand sharpened, and he gouged out a piece of Geno's SOUL. A rather large piece, that had Ink dropping to his knees, and bracing himself on all fours, gasping against the pain. 

Tears blurred in his eyes, and he barely heard Cross ordering Error and Reaper to stay in their seats. Nightmare dropped to one knee by Ink- 

_Filthy, dirty yellow. The color was similar to washing a paintbrush in darkened water._

It filled his vision, and almost distracted from the sensation of something heavy against his neck. _Click, click, click-_ the strap was tightened until the prong slipped into a hole just a little too snug for comfort. The rest of the strap was fitted in through a loop, and Nightmare rose, taking a step back to admire the fit. Heavy, with pieces reflecting light, and smelling like- 

Those tears fell from Ink's sockets. _Spiced chocolate and dust. **Red's-!**_


	32. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ink's pretty new necklace is oddly familiar... in more than one way...

Ink's throat burned from within; terror and horror churning magic into bile that scorched his insides as it forced it's way up, up, _up_ until he-

A tendril darted out and wrapped around his mouth and skull. "Swallow it down, empath. I won't have you making a mess of these polished floors yet again." When Ink choked, the pubishing grip around him only tightened.

_"Go on now. Swallow it all down like a good little-"_

Scrambling, Ink broke himself out of the hold and fell forward with his vile namesake spilling from his mouth, unable to do much but brace himself against the cold floors as he coughed and heaved all the sickness within him out. It burned. Stars, it fucking _burned;_ the acidic quality of the magic a painful thing to bear. 

Shakily, he reached a hand up to soothe his throat, though the sensation of worn leather and gleaming metal against his fingertips made him lurch forward with another wave of sick. _Oh gods... Oh... oh gods, Red..._

More prepared, he reached for the collar again. He had to get it off. He had to-!

"Careful there, empath. If that collar so much as loosens a smidge, that pretty little charm you're wearing on it will... well, we'll have to replace it, and there's only so much of dear Genocide's SOUL to go through before there's nothing left."

There was a war within himself. _Get it off get it off **get it oFF!!**_

_Don't hurt Geno! D-don't hurt him- he's carrying your children!_

But something else- 

_Oh gods oh gods why-_

_Why does this foreign weight feel so familiar...?!_

Nightmare clicked his tongue, disapprovingly. "Once you've controlled yourself, Empath, you'll clean these floors then join us for brunch. Cross, stay with him. The rest of you, with me." With a snap of his fingers he strode away. Error and Reaper almost hesitated, but tendrils lashing across the backs of their necks forced them to follow quickly. 

_It's familiar it's familiar it's familiar whyisitfamiliar?!_

Cross waited until the door shut before dropping down by the empath and reaching for him, "In-" 

Ink flinched back _hard,_ panic clear in his empty sockets and his trembling form. 

_"Ey, you finally got a collar for him! But why didn't you put a tag on it?"_

_"How many creatures like him have collars? Heh, he's **mine."**_

_WhereamIwhereamIwhere-?!_

Cross tried to call for him again, "Ink," this time, he kept his hands in front of him- 

_"H-hey... hey I know you," the voice was sweet and familiar, and a soft, golden glow appeared in his vision. "There... that should help a bit, right? Come on, they're all dead. Let me help you-"_

"Let me help you get this mess cleaned up, okay, Ink?" 

Almost distractedly, Ink stared up at Cross. Stars, he must have looked pitiful if Cross looked ready to break right there too. "I'm f-fine." 

Cross just barely managed to not shake his head at the artist. _Idiot... you're obviously not..._ "Okay. Let's go grab the cleaning supplies, alright?"

Ink nodded. At least, he was almost completely certain he did. Everything felt... numb though; lacking, as if every sensation he should have felt in that moment was being kept under lock and key. "O...okay... Just let me... l-let me..." With great difficulty, he stood. 

The world around him spin, then tilted as his legs gave out.

"Ink-!" Cross cut himself off with a curse and darted forward to steady him. Yet another flinch from Ink left him being ill himself with guilt, but the second held firm until the empath was able to stand tall on his own two feet and he was comfortable with letting him go. "Sorry..."

Ink dug his fingers into the second, terror rising still. A sick combination of his past that slipped through his fingers but left their disgusting colors behind, and the panic of what Nightmare could be doing to his aware husbands in his absence had him clinging to Cross. 

_Let go let go let go!_

_D-don't let me fall, don't let me fall, w-we have to clean this we have- **I need to get back to them!**_

Cross hissed slightly when Ink dug his fingers in a little too firmly, but didn't force the artist to let go. Instead, they stumbled over to the cleaning supplies. Ink reached for the wall and held onto it as Cross readied a mop and bucket for the dirty work. 

Echoes of his past were thankfully fading, but the snug weight around Ink's neck had him shuddering against another wave of burning vile. No no no no- Ink grit his teeth against it, whimpering as he forced it down. Blindly, he reached for the mop, and against his better judgement to take care of it himself, Cross handed it over. 

Nearly ten minutes had passed by the time an expressionless Cross lead a still-shivering Ink through the door to the dining hall. 

Nightmare toasted their arrival. "Oh good. We just finished our _appetizers._ Come. Sit next to me, you two."

_Revulsion, hatred, fear..._

Ink felt none of those things as he rushed to claim one of the seats at Nightmare's side; too preoccupied with the well-being of his husbands to care for anything derived from the king. _Please be okay. Please, please okay._ A tendril slipped around his wrist. 

Ink didn't so much as blink.

Error was seated all the way on the other end of the table, directly across from the king of the castle himself. Two seats away to the left, Reaper sat next to Endure; closer to Ink than he was the destroyer. Closer to _Nightmare_ than Error was. 

_Concern, fear, anger that bled into helplessness..._ but no pain. Reaper was okay despite being within reach of Nightmare's filthy tendrils. 

Even though Error was out of the danger zone, Ink still ran his gaze over his first to double check he was fine as well. In a near exact replication of their god's colors, Error reflected his own brand of concern and fear. His anger; however, was more noticeable.

Another tendril came around to jingle the tag. "It's nice for you to be re-acquainted with such a **close** friend, isn't it, Inky? Be sure to let me know."

Ink stopped breathing. 

At once, all outward signs of life stilled. Blinking, the shifting of symbols in Ink's sockets... even the neutral smile natural to a skeleton dropped into a straight, inexpressive line. The blank look on Ink's face, the lack of life... it all came together to form an unnerving sight made all the more unsettling by the way Ink's bland expression seemed to be flickering around the edges. No, not... not flickering, actually... 

_Dripping,_ like trails of wax spilling down the length of a candle or excess paint sliding down a wall. 

The tendril curled around the makeshift tag of Ink's collar. When it uncoiled itself to reveal the momentarily concealed bit of SOUL, the dark slick coating Nightmare's tendril was smeared all over the glowing fragment. Weakly, the shard's light flickered.

Ink felt a pain in his chest. Chasing the purple was a rush of utter despair that settled in fast and lingered. "Well, empath?" Nightmare hedged, reaching out with a hand to catch the fragment hanging from Ink's collar with his fingers. "Are you going to tell me how you feel about your little re-purposed gift?" Slowly, he rubbed over the bit of SOUL with his thumb, coaxing it to absorb the sticky goo from his tendril. 

The despair Ink felt grew. It wasn't enough to drown out his rage, but it was more than enough for Ink to regain control over his own expression. _Calm down, calm down..._ He didn't want to feed Nightmare with his anger.

He most definitely didn't want to turn his infamous frightening expression on the king. Not if doing so risked the safety of his husbands and child. "I...have no words..." he whispered. What came next was hard to choke out, but he managed. "Th...thank you for the gift, my king."

Finally, Nightmare released Geno's shard. "You're quite welcome. In all honesty, it fits you well. Maybe I should get some for the rest of your little group? What do you two think, Error? Bird? Wouldn't you just _love_ to match Inky here?"

At Error's twisted expression, Nightmare chuckled. "You don't need to answer me. I know you do." 

Cross glanced warningly at Error, but didn't make a comment. 

"Well then. Now that my loyal second and," Nightmare rubbed his hand across the back of Ink's shoulders, "my _impressive_ little empath are back, let's celebrate with food! Dig in." 

Slowly, everyone uncovered the delicious smelling brunch that Horror and Endure prepared. Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, and cheese. Simple, but still wonderful to behold. 

Before Ink could take a bite, Nightmare tightened his hand on the crook of Ink's neck and yanked him closer. His breath warmed the side of the artist's face as he murmured, "I'm giving you five days to destroy one AU, Empath. That's pretty generous of me, isn't it? Considering it takes my destroyer all of five minutes to accomplish the same task." Teeth grazed the stain on Ink's cheek, and he nuzzled just between the collar and his jawline. "A failure to do so will result in _severe,"_ he squeezed until the purple threatened to crack his collarbone in half, "Punishment. Do we have an understanding?" 

"Yes, my k-king..." 

His tongue flicked out, sampling the barely restrained rage at the base of Ink's skull. Just underneath the collar enough that the artist wouldn't be able to swipe the feeling away. "Very good," he purred before retreating to enjoy the plate before him. 

Ink stared down at the food, forcing back the frustrated tears that wanted to fall. _Familiar... why's it so familiar all the sudden...?!_


	33. Think Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made, but not necessarily agreed upon

"Y'know... for someone who isn't a total idiot, you're a real fucking dumbass, Cross." Horror grumbled, hands shoved into the pockets of his new, unsullied yellow hoodie. "Running off to one of these meetings barely two hours after brunch is cutting it close, don't you think? What's worse is that you dragged _me_ into it."

Cross resisted the urge to sigh. Barely. "You wanted in," he reminded the other nightmare, each word punctuated with a click from his heels. 

"I did, but you didn't have to invite me on your 'supply run' in front of Kills. He's been real touchy lately and I saw the look on his face when you ordered him to stay at the castle. Because of you, I'm going to have to check my bed for knives."

"It's a decent cover. And we _do_ need supplies."

"Yeah, we do. Too bad Kills thinks its a fucking date."

Cross cringed. Him and Horror? No. Just... no.

"It doesn't help that yer wearing a fuckin' dress. Again." 

Cross dropped his voice to a hiss, "It's a _cover."_

"Yeah, it _barely_ covers." 

"Are you done?!" the second finally snapped. 

"I'll be done when Kills and I are out," Horror frowned at him. "Where's your little guardian?" 

Cross glanced around the place, seeing Dream in a corner booth. The two strode over, with Horror sitting heavily down next to the guardian. Dream startled slightly, but glanced between the two of them. "....Cross," he finally decided. "What happened?" 

"Tch, I could tell ya just as well, princess," Horror stretched his arms out and reached across Dream for the menu. 

"We just had brunch!" 

"Ain't gonna pass up more food," the nightmare muttered, opening the menu up.

In order to minimize interruptions, the trio waited until the waiter came around for Horror's order and some request for drinks from Dream and Cross. With how much the broken-headed skeleton ordered, it would take quite a while for the food to come to they settled in for their talk once the drinks arrived. 

"So, what went down for you to call another meeting so soon, Cross? Or Horror." Dream questioned, adding in the last part when Horror coughed pointedly. 

The second hesitated. Dream... he wasn't just in this for the sake of doing good. Error and the others, they were his boyfriends. People Dream cared for deeply. And the news... it wasn't as bad as the soul torture that took place recently, but it wasn't anything kind.

And yet, the bad news either came from him or _Horror_ so, with a heavy heart, he sighed and caught Dream's eye with an apologetic expression. "Nightmare claimed Ink."

The golden guardian's smile froze. "I'm sorry?"

"The boss put a claim on your artist, guardian," Horror said, well aware that Dream heard Cross the first time around. "Boss didn't waste his breath explaining that's what he was doing, but the collar he gifted the inkstain with made it pretty damn clear. Kinda makes me feel bad for snatching that up from his friend's dust. Well, a bit anyways."

_Collar? Dust...? Oh, gods...!_ Dream hid his wavering smile behind a hand in a poor attempt at concealing the horror he felt."My broth- _Nightmare_ put Ink in _Red's_ collar?"

"And added a special little tag," Horror added before Cross could reply.

"A-A special-" 

Cross turned towards Horror, growling, "Could you take a breath?!" 

Horror glared back, "The more ya drag this shit out, the less time we have to gather supplies. Just, tell it how it is so we can adjust our plans." He glanced to Dream with a considering expression. 

The waiter set their drinks down, updated them on the estimated time for their food and left. 

And that's when Horror jumped in, "Honestly, we should just take 'em all out right now. The little one survived with part of a SOUL for how long? He should be fine if the rest gets destroyed, right-?" 

"We're _not_ letting Geno go without his whole SOUL!" 

"Why not?!" Horror shot back. "It's a perfect opportunity! So, he loses most his SOUL again. I say, so long as yer artist has the other piece, he'll be fine."

Dream looked between the two with an expression that grew increasingly distressed the more the nightmares bickered. _Part of a soul...? The other **piece**?_ That... that didn't mean what he thought it did, did it? It couldn't mean that... that... "Cross?" he whispered brokenly.

The second paused at the sound of Dream's strained voice. One glance at the guardian told him all he needed to know about just what the Star wanted to ask. "...Whatever you're thinking is probably correct, Dream."

"Nightmare, he-"

Impatient, Horror cut in yet again, "Look, he took a claw to the small one's SOUL and hooked it onto the collar. Is it fucked up? I guess, but that doesn't matter. It's a known fact he survived with a shard that was even _smaller_ than the one he has now. That means if Night destroys the rest he'll survive."

"He'll be in pain!"

"Only for awhile! Besides, doesn't he get off on-"

Hidden beneath the table, an arrow formed in Dream's hand with the sharp edge of the construct facing Horror. "Don't," Dream warned, shaken enough by the news that his voice came out unsteady, but finding that his horror was quickly giving way to fury. "Just... don't."

Horror turned his head to meet Dream's cold stare. "You two know I'm right."

"He's _pregnant,_ Horror," Cross hissed. "Just because Geno can potentially survive the destruction of a majority of his SOUL doesn't mean thes kid can."

Horror leaned over one of his arms, "He had a different kid with that sliver, didn't he? And the empath's still connected. The ones inside him now should be fine. Fuck, they've already been through a lot. Honestly, I'm amazed the little squirts are still kickin' in there." 

_It.... made sense.... Geno... Geno would most likely be-_

Dream shakily reached for his glass. "No. We're not going to risk it." 

"It's risking it more letting them _stay,_ dammit!" Horror stared between the two, incredulity growing on his expression. "Seriously? You're just... this is the cheapest way to get them all out!" 

Cross slammed his hand on the table, earning the attention of the nearby patrons. Dream smiled and waved shyly to them, until their attention turned away again. Cross snarled, "The potential deaths of two innocent children and most of a SOUL is **not** cheap, Horror." 

"Cheaper than if they'd have just left Geno in the beginning. At least now they have a part-" 

"S-stop..." Dream shook his head, inching slightly away from Horror, but keeping the arrow on the nightmare. "Stop it..."

Still, the usually bloodied skeleton persisted with his argument. "You two have got to be fuckin' joking! Guardian? You, I get since you're a Star and all. You though, Cross? Usually, you're not this fuckin' stupid! Nightmare is on a high right now, you two. In his head? He won another fuckin' game with the artist by putting him in that collar and now he's in as good as a mood as he can be in. When Nightmare wins? When he's his fucked up version of happy? He's practically blind because he can't see over his own damn ego! _Right now_ is our chance to get them all out."

Horror... wasn't wrong. Although both their experiences with Nightmare were different, Cross and Dream had enough years with Nightmare under their belt to realize the truth in Horror's statement. Victories... they always gave the self proclaim a particular high. Collaring a Star to himself... yeah, that definitely made for pretty big rush.

And yet... the nightmare was talking about harming Geno for the sake of freedom. What's worse is that all they really had was Geno's past condition and speculation to go off of when it came to just what losing a major portion of his SOUL would do to him and the children he carried. Everything _seemed_ like it would work out...

"Would you leave Killer's life up to a chance, Horror?" Dream asked. _Because that's what you're asking us to do with Geno and his baby._

"I'm already _doin'_ that with you two dumbasses!" Horror snapped. "I was tryin' to get yer boyfriends out. I hadn't even _mentioned_ Kills in this escape plan." 

Cross and Dream exchanged surprised glances. _It's true..._

"What about Ki-" 

Horror shook his head sharply, once. "We get the boy toys out, and I can sneak Kills out somewhere. The problem becomes gettin' the empath to fix Kills' SOUL." 

Dream took a deep breath. "How about... we leave this as a risky back-up plan-" 

"What?!" 

"It isn't perfect-!" 

"None of them will be!" Horror cut himself off as the waiter came over with the trays of food he ordered. For the moment, the nightmare seemed to be pacified. 

Once the waiter left again, and Horror began digging into his food, Dream continued, "True, none of our plans are going to be perfect, but we should try to make a plan that gets everyone out without casualties." 

"Unlikely," Horror mumbled through a full mouth. 

Cross shot him a disgusted look, but didn't comment on his comrade's poor eating. "It might not be likely, but if we can manage it, no casualties would be best." 

The other nightmare shook his head and dug in some more. 

Dream rubbed his temples. "Let me start from the top. Nightmare _c-claimed_ Ink?" there was no way for the guardian to not say that without anger darkening his eye lights slightly. "He **collared** Ink with Red's collar, put a piece of Geno's SOUL in the tag?" 

"Like a dog," Horror mumbled. 

Dream took several slow, deep breaths. Of which didn't work for him. He drained the rest of his tea. Reached out and finished Cross' tea. _Stronger, I need something stronger-_

Cross reached across the table and grabbed Dream's hands. "Hey, Dream, we're going to get them out." 

"We can get them out **now** if you two weren't a bunch of crybabies. Is this not a war? Hasn't this _always_ been a war?" Horror shook his head and bit into his food viciously.

Dream's hands tightened around Cross' punishingly, though he didn't seem to realize just how harsh his grip was with Horror taking up most of his attention. "You want to talk about war?" he hissed.

_"Br...brother...?"_

_"Heh, why the hesitation? Don't you recognize me like this, 'little brother,' dear?"_

_"B-brother, what did you do?! What did you do, Nightmare?! The tree-!"_

"I know this is a war against my brother, Horror. And, believe it or not, I know what going to war against Nightmare entitles."

_"Night-! Stop! Please, this isn't-"_

_A tendril lashed out and caught Dream by the leg. When it clenched and snapped his femur in two, Nightmare laughed; twisted glee painted in an oddly familiar green that was once such a gentle violet._

Dream's gaze was cold as it bore into Horror's only eyelight, but it was distant too. "I've been facing my brother for centuries now. I've seen parts of him that will never again see the light of day. When it comes to warring with him, I have insight no others do."

_"Dream, please-! I... something's wrong with me, Dreamy! This isn't me! It isn't-!"_

_"Night..."_

_When an arrow pierces Nightmare's shoulder, he laughs. "Aw, you stopped believing me when I say that? Too bad. Really, **'brother,'** I'm all broken up inside now... and it's done more for me than you'll ever realize."_

_Another arrow flies._

_It hits it mark._

"So I get it, okay? What you're proposing is logical, but logic alone isn't enough to win. Not when Nightmare has the ability to be so damn unpredictable that even the person birthed with him still falls into his traps. You say he's blinded by victory? Yes, he most likely is, but Nightmare is smart. Smart enough to know his own faults and how to plan around them. Your suggestion has been noted, but it is not going to be put into play unless we're sure it's safe and have absolutely _no_ other options. Do you understand?"

Horror stared back at him. He huffed and glanced away. "I think you're making a mistake, but sure. Whatever. What options are you considering anyway? We still don't _really_ know where the little one's SOUL truly is." 

"I think it's with Boss." 

_A better reason to get out with what we have while we still have it in the condition it's in..._ Horror sighed, "Fabulous." 

"You can't just waltz up to him and ask for the SOUL," Dream frowned. 

"Tch, that'd be funny. 'Ey, Boss, that's a nice shiny thing, but it looks broken. Mind if I take it off yer hands?' I'm sure that'd go swell," Horror snickered to himself. 

Silently, Cross filed that under 'Possibility'. "If we're going to get Geno's full SOUL back, then we're going to either have to find where he really keeps it, or we're going to have to snatch it the next time he forms it."

This time, Horror's staring was joined in on by Dream. "...Are you actually fuckin' serious, Cross? Trying to find the SOUL? Yeah, that has merit, if only 'cause it ain't impossible. Snatching the fucking thing _from Boss?_ That's..."

"Really dumb, hon," Dream cut in, delivery gentler than Horror's would have been but words still harsh. "Cross, my brother's reaction speed is _unreal_ sometimes. I've seen him dodge more than a hundred arrows sent his way before. What makes his reflexes worse for us is the fact that his tendrils mean he has extra limbs on his side _and_ a greater reach."

Horror nodded, uncaring that he was agreeing with Dream of all skeletons. "Boss would have ya skewered half a second after you so much as skimming the damn thing."

Cross frowned. "Well, since Dream and I are against your idea of just leaving the damned thing there, Horror, that would be the only other thing. Unless we all want to wait to see what happens? Because, I don't know about you two, but I don't want their children to be born there." 

"Their-?" 

Again, Cross sighed. He met Dream's eyes, voice softening, "The child Geno's carrying? It's Ink's and Reaper's and Geno's. Not Night's."

Even Horror looked stunned by that revelation, though he broke his surprised state in order to give a high pitched, drawn out whistle. "Wait, it's the artist _and_ the god's? Holy shit." That was actually kind of impressive, even for a skeleton. 

Dream ignored him. "Are... are you _positive?"_ he questioned, something deep within him giving a stir. Stars, his own hope actually hurt.

"Ink gave me the run down." _After I stopped panicking._ "He said... Well, some of it I'm still trying to wrap my head around, but it seems like the children are inheriting Ink's abilities? That was a sign of Ink being a father, but what confirmed it was the fact that the souling apparently glows in response to Ink's presence. _And_ Reaper's as well." 

"That... it's a natural reaction to the magic signature of your parents..." Dream whispered, a smile starting to show on his face. 

Horror's next words had him frowning yet again. "That's nice and all, but if the kids are showing signs of an empath then ain't that another reason to hurry in getting them out?"

"It's just another reason to not go with your suggestion unless we need to..." Cross murmured. 

"We... we don't know if the souling's feeling anything..." Dream realized. "O-oh stars-" he covered his mouth to keep the bile from coming up. 

Horror frowned a little. "Aintcha an empath too, Guardian?" 

"I wasn't _born,_ Horror," Dream rasped. "I... for all we know, the souling's powers could be in already, and if that's the case-" he couldn't finish. 

Cross dropped his head into his hands. "There's not a right answer." _Even if Horror's could get them out now... we need a different plan...._

But nobody was coming up with anything new. 

After finishing his fourth plate, Horror sat up, "So hang on. We've got _my_ back-up plan, and _his,"_ he waved a hand to Cross, "suicide plan? What idea do you have, guardian?" 

Dream stared down at his empty tea cup. "....drug Night?"

Horror snorted, "Been there done that, guardian." At their surprised expression, he rolled his eye. "All rookies have their moments of stupidity, okay? Mine was getting pissed at the boss and drugging his wine. I poured the strongest shit I could find into his glass and all he did was compliment the taste."

"That... that's not..." _possible._ Nightmare went through a lot of changes when he ate the apple he chose from the tree, but... immunity to poison? Dream himself was resistant to a lot of things, but swallowing a bottle of poison would still leave him ill, even if it wouldn't outright kill him. "Are you _sure_ he drank it? You saw him do so?"

"Watched with baited breath as he guzzled the entire glass down, princess. Not so much as a stomachache." Horror was watching him with a wary look. "...Why does that surprise you so much?"

_Because it doesn't make sense!_ "If drugging through usual means doesn't work, then it's best to assume that positivity," Dream shifted, "would be the only method of impacting him."

"Positivity? What, like an orgy or something?" 

Cross made a noise of disgust. The thought of an orgy with the nightmares- he shuddered. Now the husbands- 

Dream glanced curiously at Cross, but the guard avoided his gaze. "So... positivity? What do you suggest?" 

Absentmindedly scratching his sternum, Dream frowned, "Maybe, when his guard his down and Geno's SOUL is out, think of your happiest memories and throw them at Nightmare. Or encase yourselves with it." 

"Ink would figure it out," Cross nodded.

Doubtfully, Horror grumbled, "You sure? Artist seems a little thicker than his paintbrush." 

Dream looked to Horror. "Emotions have power. If you're feeling something good or bad, and it's directed towards someone, we would be able to tell. Especially if you _increased_ those feelings." 

"Okay.... assuming we know how to do that?" Horror frowned a little. "What if it isn't enough?"

Here, Dream hesitated. "...If you can muster enough positivity for it to be noticed, then I would be able to make my way into the castle."

"...You're kidding, right?" Horror murmured, sockets narrowed as he took in Dream's expression. After a moment, his brows raised; surprised. "You're not."

"I'm not," Dream confirmed, voice and expression grim.

Cross shook his head. "Dream, that's... fuck, that's even more suicidal than my idea! You can't get into the castle on your own because of how much negativity Nightmare's castle is drowning in. Throwing yourself straight into all of that... Dream, you'd be handicapping yourself. _Severely."_

Horror looked at the guardian in consideration. "Would you be impacted right away? Or could you bomb the place with happy shit before you were affected?"

"Horror, seriously?!" 

"You _know_ where my focus is on. _Who_ my focus is on. If the guardian's able ta muster enough happy shit to at least disable Night while we grab the husbands and the soul and Kills, I'd consider that a solid victory." 

"And if Ink's there, he'd probably be able to help. Cross, it might not be as suicidal as your plan is." 

Cross growled with frustration. "This is ridic-" 

Horror interrupted, "What's ridiculous is that we can get them out _now_ instead of spending time we don't have thinking about other equally unsafe options. But hey, I ain't a good guy."

Any further discussion was interrupted by a cheerful ringtone. With a sigh, Dream reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. When he glanced at the name portrayed on the screen, any sign of exhaustion vanished and he was quick to answer. "Spright? Is something wrong?"

_Spright...?_ Ah, that Error's youngest brother's new name, wasn't it? Cross couldn't hear what he was saying on the other end of the phone, but Dream's shifting expressions made it easier to guess that there was some kind of issue.

"What do you _mean_ PJ hit Goth?! They... they _never_ fight! And PJ loves their brother more than anything! Why would they hit him?!"

Yeah, definitely an issue.

After a few more minutes of a back and forth, Dream said his goodbyes and hung up. Clearly stressed, he glanced between the two nightmares and sighed, "Okay, I'm sure you can guess that I need to go. You have your errands to run to, so let's stop here for now. We'll go our separate ways, brainstorm, and in a week let's meet up again to see what else we've come up with. Sound good?"

"If we _can_ meet in a week," Horror grumbled as he stood. 

Cross ignored that in favor of helping Dream out his seat. "Sounds good, Dream...T-take care of yourself," he hesitated before letting the guardian go and turning towards Horror. "Alright, what's the first thing on our list?"


	34. Subtle Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Error and Ink talk.

After the brunch, the husbands were allowed to return to their rooms. The hiatus was over, and the only one given free reign to leave the castle was Ink, so long as he destroyed an AU within five days. 

Of course, the empath wasn't thinking about that when he was hiding in the bathroom, trying to itch at the bone under the collar. 

_"If that collar so much as loosens a smidge, that pretty little charm you're wearing on it will... well, we'll have to replace it, and there's only so much of dear Genocide's SOUL to go through before there's nothing left."_

Ink forced his hands away, just to bury his sockets in his palms and try to muffle his tears.

There was a quiet knock on the door. Without lifting his head to glance at the colors behind the wood, Ink knew that it was Error on the other side. "I'll be out soon, hon." Impressively, his voice didn't shake.

"Inky..." his first murmured. 

There was no smile to match Ink's joyful tone. "Heh, that's my name! Well, my nickname? Nickname-name? Hehe...heh..."

"Ink, can I come in?"

_Yes._ He wanted his first in his arms. Better, he wanted to hide in Error's arms.

_No._ He didn't want the shorter skeleton to see him like this; to see him in the collar worn by the friend he killed with Geno's SOUL glowing in place of a tag.

_To see him crying and scratching..._ Ink stood quietly to check the damage in the mirror- ah... his neck was definitely bleeding... And he couldn't see everywhere that it was coming out. 

Instead, he took one of the towels and covered the mirror, then settled himself behind the shower curtains. "S-sure thing, Error... it's open..." 

Error slipped in, quietly clicking the door shut behind himself. He noticed the black inky droplets on the floor, before seeing Ink's shadow on the other side of the curtain. "Ink..." Error walked closer and sat on the other side of the tub-shower combo. He sighed, reaching to draw the curtain open. "Inky, may I open this?" 

Ink stared at Error's silhouette before dropping his gaze to the knees he held to his chest. ".....if you want...."

He heard rather than saw Error draw back the shower curtain. Once he was revealed, the heavy weight of his husband's gaze settled on his shoulders. _Don't look at me. Don't judge me. Don't-_

"I'm coming in." Kicking off his shoes, the destroyer carefully stepped into the shower and sat down across from Ink, though the fit was a little tight. Crossing his legs, he reached out and dragged the shower curtain shut again. "Hi, Inky."

Reluctantly, Ink smiled. How could he resist? "Hey, Ruru..."

"You're not okay." It was a statement, not a question. And yet, it was spoken just softly enough that it didn't feel like an attack.

The collar burned against his scratched up neck. "...I..." Error's gaze wasn't cruel or judging, but Ink couldn't bring himself to make the admission; to agree with the obviously truthful statement. "..."

Absently, he reached up to scratch some more, jumping slightly when he felt that hand covered by Error's own. "Ink... you don't have to say anything if you don't want," _stars, it's hard to say this...!_, "t-tell us in your own time. But u-until then, you... you've got scratches-" 

Ink trembled, shrinking that much more into himself. _Don't touch it, don't look, don't-_

_Pink_

He dragged his blurry gaze from the tile on the wall to Error's hand. He followed the path up until his wavering lights met Error's mismatched ones. 

The color and the smile were both so soft from Error, though tension was still visible in his sockets. "Hey... h-hey, my face shouldn't be bringing you tears anymore..." 

"H-heh..." Ink squeezed Error's hands, then scrubbed his sockets with his free sleeve. "I-idiot..." 

"Yours." 

Ink sniffed, meeting his eyes again. "Yours..." he whispered. _N-not his... not..._

Error watched him with soft, understanding eyes. "Well, mine _and_ Reaper's. And Geno's, too." _And Dream’s..._ "They get whiny when I hog you, so try to remember that, okay? ...Even if I'm clearly your favorite."

A small laugh was startled out of him. "Ru, we're not supposed to pick favorites."

"Yeah, well, try to stop me." Gently, Error reached out and cupped Ink's cheek. With a soft, loving touch, he stroked over the bone just below Ink's left socket. "Don't tell the others, but you're _my_ favorite, honey."

He leaned into his first's hand. "Even if I said Reaper was my favorite?" he teased. 

"Oh _betrayed?_ Well, guess I'll have to try harder, huh?" Error murmured. 

Ink shook his head, whispering, "You don't have to try anything... Stars, Ru, you d-don't..." he bowed his head slightly, unable to continue.

Smile falling, Error reached out and gently pulled Ink into his arms. "We'll get through this, Inky. I... I don't know when we'll get out, or what else we'll face... but, we'll make it, hon. _All_ of us will."

The empath felt Error's determination. Felt how sure the words were to him, even with the fearful doubt underlying the statement. He let himself curl up in those words and that embrace, though he didn't have much to offer in return. Nothing as sweet anyway. 

"Five days to destroy a full AU, Ru..." Ink tucked his head under the other's chin, shrinking as much as he can so his first would hold him closer. "F-five days a-and it might just be the four of y-you..." 

"Hey, d-don't..." Error shuddered, fighting his coming haphephobia. "N-no..." 

Ink fell silent. It's true, isn't it...? He nearly dusted the last time, and that was with family and friends nearby to make sure he didn't. Most likely, he would barely be allowed one person's company, and that person would just be there to watch the destruction. He shouldn't spend too much time away from his husbands. Even with the collar-

He can't afford to avoid his family, if he's going to die anyway... 

With that thought in mind, Ink pulled away enough to take Error's face in his hands and kiss him.

It felt a lot like practice for a goodbye.


	35. Once Upon A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which even dreams can be bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to hurt...

If life were kind, Nightmare would have extended the hiatus for Ink and his husbands so that they could properly cherish the time they had left together. 

If life were merciful, Ink's littlest husband would have been awake and aware so that when Ink pressed kisses and whispered 'I love you' to his husbands the evening of the fourth day, Geno would have been able to hear the words; would have been able to respond with more than distant colors and remember the way Ink shaped the letters into his belly with a kiss meant for their children. 

Logically, Ink knew that life _could_ be kind and merciful, but there was no room for such things in the walls of Nightmare's castle. Kindness, mercy... they were mere myths here; simple words that meant nothing to the king who was ordering Ink to his death. 

And although he didn't want to, Ink was about to march to that death now; like a good, obedient dog being lead to it's end by the leash it's master held.

_It's time..._ Their alarm for missions wouldn't go off for another two hours, but it was officially the early morning of the fifth day. He wanted to sleep in. More than anything, Ink wanted to find a way to fit his husbands and child into his arms one last time before leaving their rooms, but he didn't dare wake them. If he did... _Stars, I won't be able to say goodbye again._

He wouldn't be able to make himself go.

So he snuck out of bed when their colors showed them in their deepest sleeps. He pulled on his neutral clothes and left the faux-home, making his way to the one room where interdimensional travel was the weakest and easiest. 

But again found himself pausing. _What AU...?_ Nightmare never specified. 

_He **did** mention Dancetale the first time... probably he'll want you to destroy that._

Oh but if he could help it... maybe he wouldn't have to destroy anything too big...? _I mean, an AU is an AU, regardless the people in there or not._ Without fully thinking of a destination, Ink opened a portal and stepped through. 

Finding himself in Outertale. 

_Space... Error and I have so many memories in this place...._ Ink found himself staring up at the stars, feeling purple blooming slowly in his SOUL. Maybe there's a way to destroy an AU without feeling in- 

Ink jolted slightly. _The Doodle Sphere..._ When was the... 

Oh the last time he was there was to make plans to stop Aftertale from being destroyed....

"H-heh..." Now wasn't that just ironic? 

The Doodle Sphere was... Stars, it was so many things to Ink. A base of operation for the Stars, a dedication to Creativity-

_"Cree...!"_

-among other things, the first real home Ink had for a long, long time. Not every memory he had of his once-home was a pleasant one, but the good experienced there far outnumbered the bad.

And Ink was going to change that by using it to destroy a world.

His view of the stars blurred with a pathetic wave of tears. Briefly, he wondered if this was how Error saw his favorite world with his terrible eyesight; an unfocused mesh of color with stars that looked more like streaks of light than glittering specks. 

_I... I'll ask him when I return..._ Ink thought, blinking away the sorrow from his eyes as he tried not to doubt his return. He didn't have time to waste on doubts, or tears. If the vague plan forming in his head was going to work, then he had to get a move on. Who knew if he was being watched?

With that in mind, he summoned Broomy into his hand and formed a portal straight into the doodle-

"I-Ink...?"

-sphere. "...Dr...Dream..." he choked, stunned eyes on the golden guardian hunched over the worktable on the other side of the portal.

_No no no...._ This... this isn't how it's supposed to- 

Dream straightened slowly, staring uncertainly at the artist. "Ink...?" Magic twinkled in one of his hands as he searched Ink's gaze for signs that it wasn't his... his _boyfriend._

Ink almost broke right there. Almost. Instead, he whispered, "I.... don't have a lot of time...." 

"For what...?" Dream kept the worktable between them, keeping his warring emotions to himself. 

_Run to him! Kiss him and hug him and demand answers!_

_Don't do that! This could be a trap! Why else is he here by himself?!_

Ink struggled to control the growing emotions within himself. "Why... why are you here...? Are the kids....? Is _Blue-?"_ Ink froze slightly. _Muffet..._

_I... did that..... do they know...?!_

At the mention of the children, Dream's wary gaze turned frigid only to grow icier at the sound of Blue's name. The skeleton before him looked like Ink. He reacted just as Dream would have expected from the artist too, but he had to be sure that the person before him truly was Ink; that the base of operations for the Stars wasn't compromised.

"Who am I?" he questioned, ignoring the desperation in Ink's gaze. 

The artist's distress melded into confusion. "Wh-what? You- you're _Dream!"_

Discreetly, Dream called forth his bow and held it at his side so that the table obscured it from the taller skeleton's view. "Who. Am. I?"

"Dre-"

An arrow shot pass Ink's cheek, turning his words into a betrayed sound that hurt to hear. "I won't ask again. If you're really Ink, then tell me who I am."

Ink watched him, frozen. _Who he is? He... he's Dream! My-_ his breath hitched. _Dream is... he's..._

_"Pos-"_

"You're my Dreamboat." Ink choked out, tears he thought he was too tired to cry dripping from symbols that flashed between blue, yellow, and pink. "You're... you're my boyfriend, hon." The color in Ink's eyes continued to shift.

Blue.

Yellow.

Pink.

_Sorrow._

_A struggling joy._

**Love.**

Nightmare as he now was couldn't feel love. He couldn't even fake it. "Ink," Dream whispered, bow fading from his hand.

Ink tried to wipe at those tears now, and accidentally grazed the collar with his knuckles. Of course the pretty sound it made had both Stars flinch. Ink stepped away quickly, not wanting to talk about it or let Dream look at it. "I... c-can't stay..." 

"What're you doing here, Ink...?" Dream was faster to follow, catching the empath's arms in one of his hands, then flinching at the residual negativity within him. "Ink-" 

The artist avoided his gaze but couldn't bring himself to lie. So, in a volume that worried of being overheard, Ink admitted, "I have a mission... to d-destroy an AU.... so I was going to look for one that's... b-basically dead and h-hope it's enough...." 

"Ink, you'll-" 

"Die? Y-yeah..." he shuddered. "P-probably..."

Resignation. Out of everything Dream felt from Ink, that was the strongest emotion brewing within the artist. _He... he already accepted that he's going die,_ and while Ink obviously wasn't okay with that, Dream knew just from prior experience with the artist that he wasn't entirely opposed; if only because Ink's death meant Geno's continued existence. 

Oh stars, _Geno...!_

"Ink," Dream whispered, hesitantly reaching out again. This time, he was more prepared for the negativity and was able to circle his hand around Ink's wrist without being too bothered by the pain. "Honey, this... it's not just suicidal, it's... this could be murder, Ink."

Crushing guilt filled Ink's expression but he couldn't bring himself to look away from Dream. For all he knew, this would be the last time he ever got to see his boyfriend. _Why didn't I realize I loved you sooner? Why did I wait until it was too late for us?_ "I... I know it's murder, Dream. I know, but I have to destroy a-"

"I'm talking about Geno, honey." It was selfish, but this time? Dream was putting the family he longed to experience before his work.. "Ink, I know about your connection to him. What you're walking into... stars, please tell me you're not going into this with that connection still going. I... I don't want to lose you, Inkblot, but Geno and your children don't deserve to be taken with you if you... if you..."

He couldn't even say it. Dream didn't even want to think of what could very well happen to Ink. _I... I can't heal him on my own. Not if the same amount of damage as last time occurs._ He was skilled, but not enough to handle repairing that much physical trauma on his own.

_You're not going to address him destroying a world?!_ A small voice in the back of his head shouted. Unnervingly, he couldn't place the voice, but it was familiar.

With that concern, Ink immediately tuned into Geno's emotions, and the growing pressure in his stomach. _Still asleep, surrounded by Error and Reaper..._ Slowly, Ink shook his head. "N-no... no, I just... I'll let go when I f-find the AU to destroy..." _I don't want to leave him just yet..._

"Okay... Let me help-" 

Ink pulled his arm out of Dream's grasp. "No... Dream _no._ It's bad enough that one of the Stars was taken. It's bad enough that they're going to destroy a world they're meant to protect. I'll not have you dragged into it too..." He glanced around. "But that reminds me..." 

"I'm already _in_ this, Ink! Dammit, you stubborn-" __

_Ink whirled around, grabbing Dream's shoulders, "Dreamboat, _you will not be destroying an AU with me._ And that's final, okay? If you want to help me _find_ the AU? And maybe sweep my dust up later...? Fine. But the destroying part _needs_ to be just me." He let go and summoned his paintbrush, hugging it close before setting it on the work table. "I won't let you get sullied anymore Broomy..." His hands were shaking as he made his way into where he kept his other art supplies._

_ _Dream flinched back from the sheer intensity of Ink's panic. It was blinding, yet brief; quick to disappear in the complex mix of emotion Ink felt. _Ink, you idiot..._ Even now, he was trying to protect others at his own expense. _ _

_ _"I'll help you find an AU, honey." Voice firm, he turned to keep his eyes on Ink. "I'll stand by and let you destroy it, too. But I am _not_ sweeping your dust off, Inkblot, because you are _not_ going to die." He sounded confident while he spoke._ _

_ _Stars, if only Dream actually felt that way. _ _

_ _Ink paused with a palette knife in his hand. "...Dream," he whispered, "I don't think you get to decide that."_ _

_ _Crying was the last thing Dream wanted to do when Ink was the one who needed support, but he couldn't help it. If Ink died... Stars, he couldn't stand the thought. "You have children, Ink. PJ, Goth... they're waiting for you, hon. Not just them, but you have _soulings_ who are depending on their other father to return. Reaper, Geno, Error... _Me_... all of us need you."_ _

_ _"Dream..."_ _

_ _"We _need_ you to make it through this alive. And... fuck, Inkblot, I don't care if I don't get a say in whether or not you live. I... I already decided, damnit. You _are_ going to live, okay? I'm determined to make it happen." _I'll pour all my energy into healing you, I'll shower you in paint..._ He would do anything he could to help Ink live._ _

_ _Chuckling weakly, the artist returned to rifling through his supplies. _I'm really not sure determination alone is enough here..._ though Dream's words were appreciated._ _

_ _He came across a blank mask just then and paused. He'd already decided to set Broomy aside. To take it out of the fight, in a matter of speaking. And rumors probably already spread that one of the Stars is now with Nightmare... _ _

_ __But... it doesn't need to be **my** face..._ He glanced around his area some more and started pulling out his paints and fixatives. _It's going to be rough and dark, but that's just... basically describes how things have been right?_ _ _

_ _It'll be perfect in the worst of ways. _ _

_ _Dream watched Ink take out emotion after emotion on the mask, uncertain of if he should stop the other or not. _Aren't we supposed to be going to an AU-__ _

_ _Ink passed a respirator mask to Dream and put one on for himself. Once Dream's mouth and nose were covered, Ink sprayed the fixative on and set it in an oven of sorts to bake fast. The whole process took about an hour, which neither could bring themselves to speak. What would they say? Variants of what they've already said? _ _

_ _Do empaths really need to speak if their emotions are, more or less, clear to each other? _ _

_ _Gingerly, Ink pulled the mask out the oven and waited for it to cool off. He pocketed the palette knife, then found a smaller acrylic paintbrush with the bristles wild and ruined. There wasn't enough soap or conditioner to bring the bristles back. _Perfect..._ He pocketed that one too. _ _

_ _"Ink..." _ _

_ _The artist kept his respirator mask on and carefully strapped the painted mask on over it. Though he was basically immune to inhaling or ingesting his art supplies, he wasn't sure the affect on his SOUL. _ _

_ _ _Would it matter?_ _ _

_ _He turned towards Dream, flinching slightly at the sadness leaking through Dream's shields._ _

_ _"Oh, Inkblot..." The guardian whispered, golden gaze dull and sad as he closed the distance between them. Gently, he ran his fingertips across Ink's mask and traced one of the tendrils curving around the surface. _So little time spent on this and yet it's still so beautiful..._ Unfairly so, really._ _

_ _The mask hid Ink's expression, but it couldn't hide his festering emotions from Dream. "How do I look...?" he murmured, voice distorted by both layers over his mouth._ _

_ __Like a nightmare..._ Dream couldn't bring himself to say that though. Instead, he offered a shaky smile and dropped his hand to rest on Ink's shoulder; careful to avoid the collar neither one of them wanted to address at the moment. Or ever. "We... we need to find you an AU. It's just... Inky, it's going to be difficult to find something to match what you want _and_ what my brother would be pleased by."_ _

_ _Ink dropped his gaze. "If it were just me... heh, well I could give less of a shit what _Nightmare_ wants. An AU is an AU, and if I destroy it, that should be enough." His voice lowered a little, laced with pain. "He told me to destroy _Dancetale,_ Dreamboat...." he shivered at the memories of torment slashing through his SOUL. "I told him no. He just... I had five days to find and destroy an AU. I-" _ _

_ _"Procrastinated? Heh how am I not surprised?" Dream hesitantly smiled up at him. "Today's the last day, isn't it?" _ _

_ _Ink nodded. ".....it would probably just be easier to destroy Dancetale instead of finding a smaller AU, wouldn't it...? Since he already demanded I destroy it... I just-" _ _

_ _ _Ink's hands gripped Dream's tightly. Though the artist was around the same height as the guardian, Dream still lead the waltz. "Isn't this fun, Inky?"_ _ _

_ _ _"I-it's a lot easier than that breakdancing Dance was kicking my ass at..."_ _ _

_ _ _Dream laughed, holding him closer and looking into his ever changing sockets and wavering smile. "If you gave it enough attention, I'm sure you'd excel in no time."_ _ _

_ _"It's special to us..."_ _

_ _Stepping closer into Ink's space, Dream tried for a comforting smile that missed it's mark by a mile. "Inkblot... Even if all we'll have left is memories, Dancetale will continue being special to us." Desperately, he tried not to think about all the lives in that world, or the friend it belonged to. _ _

_ _Ink saw through his brave expression easily. "I... I can choose another world. Outertale-"_ _

_ _"No."_ _

_ _"Dream-"_ _

_ _Shaking his head, the guardian pulled Ink into an embrace. He didn't want to see Dancetale destroyed. Stars, there wasn't a single world he _would_ want destroyed, but if it was a choice between Dream's special place with Ink or Error's... _ _

_ _Well, that wasn't much of a choice at all._ _

_ _"Inky, there's a hundred places out there that you and I have memories of us together. Error... hon, everyone knows Outertale is the one world he loves. Protecting our special place means destroying the only one Error has really known. If that's the case, then I rather give up our Dancetale so that his Outertale can live on."_ _

_ _Ink's shoulders drooped. _I c-can't believe I even suggested Outer...._ "L....let's try to find a different AU...." _ _

_ _They scoured the Doodle Sphere, searching for an AU that would match something Nightmare would want, but something small enough that Ink hopefully wouldn't... _ _

_ _Dream glanced over to the artist in question, feeling a tension in the lower pits of his SOUL at how well the mask covered Ink's face. Even the stain on his cheek. "Ink, let's stop for some food real quick, okay?" _ _

_ _"I don't have that many hours left, Dream... I think he'd want a more established AU to be destroyed. Knowing him and his asshole-ness, probably a place that I've helped.... that's more friends' dusts on my hands..." _ _

_ _Dream... didn't have anything to offer. No words were going to make this better. But getting them out- _ _

_ _"Dreamboat, how did you know the soulings are mine...? Or that there was more than one of them…?" Ink looked to him. "I never mentioned it, and we haven't had time to..." Ink picked at his clothes, thankful that he chose longer sleeves to disguise the fresher scars, "...catch up." He frowned. "Not only that but you knew about my connection with Geno... how?"_ _

_ _Dream's smile faltered slightly. _You stars damned idiot!_ And, for once, he didn't mean Ink. "I..." He didn't want to say too much. Actually, Dream didn't want to say much of anything concerning his meetings with Cross. Ink was aware that he and the nightmare had some form of contact, but not the full extent. _And if- **after** he lives through this, he may endanger our plans...__ _

_ _Ink's eyes sharpened, his symbols an eerie sight to see through the eyes of the mask. "Dream." His tone alone let the guardian know he couldn't weasel his way out of this._ _

_ _"...Cross," Dream sighed. "He's a... an informant, I guess you could say. If not that, then I'd at least like to consider him a friend. He... he's been letting me know what's going on in the castle, honey." Sadly, his eyes flickered down to Ink's collar._ _

_ _Dream's eyes only lingered for a second or two, but it was enough for Ink to shrink back; ashamed of just what he wore around his neck. "...You knew about this already...?" he whispered, voice small._ _

_ _"Yeah, hon," Eyes so, so sad, Dream reached out caught Ink's hands. He wanted to cradle his face, but the mask was a barrier that would interfere with the contact. "I knew. I... I know about a lot of things, Inkblot. What happened to Ge's SOUL, the connection, the fact that the babies are your and Reaper's children... I know there was a good reason to think they weren't..." _I know more than I sometimes wish I did.__ _

_ __Muffet...? Do you know what I did to her...?_ Ink tightened his grip on Dream's hands, trying to find something to steady himself. _ _

_ _Dream, in turn, squeezed Ink's hands back. "I know you're trying to protect them. Heh, I would've been surprised if you _weren't_ trying-"_ _

_ _"I'm _failing,_ Dreamboat. I _failed."_ He shrugged and dropped his gaze. "I've been failing since Aftertale fell," _and I doubt I'll live long enough to suffer failing to destroy an AU..._ "G-Geno? He's still not responsive. We d-don't know if he knows he's pregnant. He _scarred_ Reaper's neck," Ink grit his teeth, "And he keeps _touching_ Error and Geno. I failed all of them." He shook his head slightly. "I've killed people," his hands started to shake- _ _

_ _ _"I'm... n-no, I'm not a murderer..."_ _ _

_ __"Oh, you've already forgotten the town, haven't you my pet?"_ _ _

_ _ _Ink stared down at his hands, sockets wide and empty. Already, whatever paints his master had given him were fading, and soon, he probably wouldn't remember this. But his hands were covered in blood and dust. "No... I'm... I'm a pacifist-"_ _ _

_ __"Pacifists don't usually have dirty hands like yours, pet."_ _ _

_ _Ink shook his head sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. _What... what was that...?_ He let go of one of Dream's hands to absently rub his ink stain, and try to remember that fragment._ _

_ _"Ink...?"_ _

_ _His symbols snapped down to-_ _

_ _ _Twin stars shine their light upon him from what would otherwise be two empty pools of black. The stars... they're not shaped like the ones he used to doodle. Instead of five points, they're twin orbs of the warmest color he has ever seen: A bright, beautiful gold like suns crafted from fine metal._ _ _

_ _ _"H-hey, it... it's okay. You had a bad dream, but... b-but you're okay now? You're **free** now, remember?"_ _ _

_ __A bad dream... He's used to those by now, but..._ _ _

_ _ _Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out. It's the first time he's done so in awhile, he thinks. When his fingers brush a nasty cut on the other's cheek, they wince. One golden eye the same color of the blood now staining his fingertips close._ _ _

_ _ _"I... I did this...?"_ _ _

_ _ _The question earns him a smile he thinks might be sympathetic. "It's okay. You were... afraid. I know you didn't mean to." And, remarkably, the words are followed up with a smile. Not cruel. Not unkind. Sweet._ _ _

_ _ _Far too understanding from someone else now scarred by his hands._ _ _

_ _A severe ache in his skull sends Ink stumbling forward. Before he can tip to one side or the other, Dream is back in his personal space helping to steady him. Worried golden orbs watch him with a look of concern, but Ink can't stare at Dream's bright eyelights for long without the ache in his head growing. Instead, he averts his eyes slightly down and to the left._ _

_ _The pain grows when his eyes settle on a scar cut across Dream's cheek. _I... I've never noticed that..._ Although that wasn't surprising. The scar was... faint. If Ink wasn't as close as he was now, he wouldn't have seen it. _ _

_ _"Ink? Ink, what's wrong?!"_ _

_ _"I don't..." he shut his eyes and reached for his head. _W-was it getting harder to breathe...?!__ _

_ _"H-hey, you're starting to panic honey," Dream reached for him, startling when the other flinched away from him and ripped off the masks he wore. _ _

_ _The guardian thought Ink would throw them, but the artist held them close and stumbled away, trying to gulp in the air he didn't really need. "G-give me a s-second...!" Ink choked out._ _

_ _There was a chair not too far away that Ink stumbled to and gratefully sank down on. _What... what's going on with me...? That was-__ _

_ _ _Golden eyes brighter than any star, a smile crafted from sunshine... A name, freely given despite how little he earned the trust it was spoken with._ _ _

_ _ _"Oh, my name? Well, it's-"_ _ _

_ _Gasping, Ink lurched forward and smacked his head against the table. _I can't remember, I... I can't... it was **right** there. The name...__ _

_ _Ink couldn't remember it, but he was sure he knew what it was. _But that... it doesn't make sense!_ None of what he was seeing made sense! He didn't... He didn't know what was going on. Not in Nightmare's head, not in Geno's and now? Not even with his own stars-damned memory._ _

_ _ _What's wrong with me...?_ _ _

_ _Soon, Ink found himself laughing. What else is he supposed to do? He's about to _die_, and he's trying to do some sort of... mental analysis on himself? _ _

_ _Honestly, it was pretty funny. _ _

_ _Dream stared at him, uncertain of how to take this. _D-did Ink just crack...?__ _

_ _Once he got himself mostly under control again, Ink murmured, "C'mon Dream... if we can't find something soon, it'll have to be Dancetale." _ _

_ _ _I won't let you die!_ _ _

_ _"Dream...? Promise me you won't let yourself dust trying to save me." Ink raised his gaze to his long-time friend and current boyfriend. "Promise me."_ _

_ _Dream watched him helplessly. _I don't want to live in a world where you don't exist..._ Ink was so much more than a skeleton Dream fell in love with. He was his best friend. Beyond who he was to Dream, Ink was the _protector;_ someone who loved the multiverse far more than most believe he did nowadays. _ _

_ _To stand by and watch him dust..._ _

_ _Tears stung Dream's eyes. _If it were the other way around, you would promise the same to me with a smile just to turn around and break it._ But Dream wasn't Ink. He wasn't... _ _

_ _He wasn't the worlds' biggest idiot. "O...okay..." he whispered. _I love him. I don't want to see him die!_ And yet Dream couldn't risk following Ink into death simply because he tried too hard to save him. As selfish as he wished he could be, there was a multiverse depending on him. More importantly..._ _

_ _He had three more boyfriends and unborn children he needed to save._ _

_ _ _"Okay what?" Error demanded. "We want to hear your words, Inky."_ _ _

_ _Ink smiled a little at the memory, "Okay, what? I want to hear your words, Dreamboat." His smile fell a little but he didn't avert his tired gaze, "It's more than that... I _need_ to hear you say it. I need to know they still have a chance of getting out." _ _

_ _Dream stared at him, and those damned tears glittered down his cheeks. "...I promise, Inky..." _ _

_ _The guardian expected a weight to visibly lift off Ink's shoulders, but that feeling of resignation within him just seemed to strengthen instead. "Thank you..." _ _

_ _ _Please... please don't thank me for something like this...!_ _ _

_ _With a wavering smile, Dream held a hand out for Ink to take. "Come on, Inkblot." _Why are you so ready to die? Why... why aren't you trying to fight to live?!_ "We need to find you a... a way to complete your mission." A world._ _

_ _Ink slid his hand into Dream's hold. _I don't want to lose this._ He didn't want to lose everything he treasured in life, but what choice did he have? _ _

_ _Smiling shakily, Ink let himself be pulled to his feet. He still held his mask but he didn't slide it on just yet. If these were going to be his last few moments... He wanted to live them as himself. Not Nightmare's little pet or the betrayer to the very people he swore to protect._ _

_ _In his final moments, he just wanted to be Ink; a husband, a father... and a boyfriend to one of the sweetest skeletons out there. "I'm ready, Dreamboat."_ _

_ __I'm not. Stars, I'm really not ready for this._ "L-let's check some of the emptier AUs first..."_ _


	36. Skillet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one of that band's [ songs](https://youtu.be/2aJUnltwsqs) plays.

It came down to the wire when they stopped just outside the portal to Dancetale. The two still held hands and stared at the portal from inside the Doodle Sphere. "You've got fifteen minutes left, Inky..." 

"And he did explicitly say this one..." Ink murmured. He squeezed Dream's hand slightly and let go, just to hesitate to put the mask on. He glanced over to his boyfriend, but.... 

He made up his mind. Ink covered Dream's cheek with his palm, leaning down and kissing him.

If this were a movie, time would have slowed; seconds seeming like years as their grins met and their eyes fell close to savor the kiss.

One second, two, almost three.... Far too quickly, the moment passed and they were pulling away. The kiss was sweet, but this wasn't a movie. Ink didn't have time to linger at Dream's side. Heart heavy, he stepped back and let his hand slip from Dream's cheek. 

"I love you, Dream. I... I'm sorry it took me too long to realize that, but I do. _I love you_, and I hope you remember that." His family would be there for Dream, just like the guardian would be there for them. In their love for one another, Ink's would live on. 

Starlight tears twinkled as they fell from Dream's eyes. "I love you, Ink. Stars, I... I don't care how long it took you to return those feelings. I love you, Ink, and just having gotten the chance to experience yours is enough." _Don't leave! Don't leave me! Don't leave us!_

Ink smiled. "Bye, Dreamboat."

And with that, he stepped through the portal to Dancetale.

———

_"I'm giving you five days to destroy one AU, Empath. That's pretty generous of me, isn't it? Considering it takes my destroyer all of five minutes to accomplish the same task."_

Ink stumbled through the portal into the throne room, purple flaring in his vision and boiling in his bones. He wasn't sure, but his bones themselves might've been dusting too. The portal showed the last of Dancetale disintegrating into code before the void was all that was left. Then it closed, and Ink- stars, he couldn't see...! 

"I knew you would return," Nightmare purred from somewhere in front of him. "I wasn't expecting you to do so in a mask though, Inky." 

The artist gripped the dust-covered palette knife in his hand, but couldn't lift his head through the pain.

"Hm, nothing to say, little empath?" Nightmare teased. Ink didn't catch the sound of his squelching footsteps, but he felt the harsh grip on his chin that forced him down closer to the king's height. "Come now, Inky, be good and tell me how it went."

Ink tried to speak. When he opened his mouth, all that left him was an airy cough that left the inside of his mask coated in powdery dust. 

Nightmare clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Let's try that again. Be a good, obedient _pet_ and _speak_, empath. Your master demands it."

Ink flinched, though he didn't entirely understand why. "Th...t-the," he choked down what was too wet to be dust this time around. Blood, he guessed. "Th...e... t-the..."

"Clearer, empath. You sound like Error for fuck's sake."

Stubbornly, a protective flare of anger tinted Ink's wavering eyelights red for a moment. "The m-mission was a... a s-success. Da...dancetale i-is gone..."

"And my pet still lives." Nightmare smirked. "Impressive." He caressed Ink's jawline roughly with one thumb, glancing in distaste. "Although, you _do_ look inches from death. Heh, took quite a hit there didn't you. Did they fight?" 

_I just want to sleep you prick..._ but even that spiteful thought was drained. So, hoarsely, he answered, "Y-yes." His shoulders shook with the effort to not start coughing up what he knew needed to come up. Of course, that resulted in a soft whimper escaping from between his teeth. 

"And where's your infamous brush?" 

"G-gone..." he whispered.

A finger wormed its way behind Geno's shard to curl in the hook of the collar Ink wore. "Aw, you lost your famous little toy now, did you? What, did someone decide the protec- I'm sorry, that the _betrayer_ didn't quite deserve it anymore?" Tired of standing, Nightmare turned and made his way back to his throne.

With the hold on his collar, Ink had no choice but to follow and kneel before Nightmare's thrown when directed to do so. _Get your hand away from Geno's shard...!_ Gaze lowered, he whispered, "I... I don't though..." And he wasn't just saying that for show.

Nightmare released his collar just to replace the finger curled through it with a tendril. "Now, now, Inky. There's no need to be so hard on yourself." Resting his hand on Ink's skull, the king offered a few patronizing pats. "That's my job."

There wasn't anything for Ink to say. Not really. So he kept his silence. The king let out a low whistle, "Aww, surely you've still got some fight in you?" he rubbed the top if Ink's head, ignoring the dust that was trying to flake off his skull. "A couple centuries of resistance and all it takes is a collar and destroying an AU to ruin you? Shame." 

Again, Ink felt himself tightening his grip on the palette knife, but again, he kept his silence. 

"Hmm..." the art tool was snatched from his grip as a tendril wrapped tightly around the wrist that had held it. "Were you thinking to harm me with this, empath?" 

"...No, sir..." 

The tendril tightened around his wrist. With the purple still coursing through his bones, he barely felt it. "What was that?" 

".......No, _master......"_

"Good boy." Almost absently, the tendril loosened and slid away from him. Just to prod at the mask. "How long did it take you on this? It's quite lovely. It looks like something I'd have you craft... oh, is this your way of accepting who you serve?"

His vision was starting to blacken around the edges, but Ink fought through his body's dire need to sleep. Ink just... if he made it through this confrontation, then he could rest in the safety of his husbands' presence. "...Y-yes, master...” Stars, what a foul pair of words those were.

Graciously, Nightmare rewarded Ink for the pleasing response with a caress to his masked cheek. "Although it's a bit dull, I quite like you like this, Inky. Submissive, on your knees... I was worried you'd be completely boring once that fire gave out, but you're a rather delicious sight. Just broken enough to make it amusing, though I do hope for your sake that, that amusement doesn't fade." The tendril toying with the mask coaxed Ink's head back. "Hmm, yes... I definitely like this on you, I think. For now on, you're to wear this when outside your rooms. The only exception will be family meals. Do you understand, Inky?"

"...Yes, master."

"Good boy." Nightmare cooed, gleefully tracing a painted tendril with a finger. "Now, run along, pet. And do inform my destroyer that I expect him to relay the details of your mission to me sometime within the next few days."

The moment his tendrils and hands were off Ink, the artist was standing. Well, struggling. He almost lurched into Nightmare's lap when dots bloomed over his vision, but the single mindset of _He's not **yours!**_ kept Ink from collapsing right there. He turned and stumbled his way back to the fake home. 

Inside, Error fidgeted with a tangled ball of his strings. He'd woken up to just Reaper and Geno in his bed, and a cold space replacing where Ink was. _That idiot... he left without saying goodbye..._ those kisses and cuddles from the night before... that time he spent trying to memorize Ink's face as his first slept... were those going to be the last memories...? 

The doorknob turned, startling Error. He swiped the extra tears that fell and crammed them into the ball, just as the door opened. 

"R.....Ru.....?" 

Error looked up, sockets widening, "....Ink...?!" what the fuck is on his face...? f-fuck, **he's** dusting...! "INK!" With a crack, the destroyer was right there, catching his artist as the other started to collapse thankfully into his embrace. 

Ink was making this weird... wheezing noise, with coughs interrupting it. It took Error a few seconds to realize his idiot was laughing. "Heh.... hehe...... I'm... h-home...." Ink reached up and gently took the mask off and wrapped his arms around Error. 

_His grip's so weak, he's bleeding and coughing up dust... stars, what other fucking injuries do you have, Ink...?!_ "R-Reaps!" Error called up the stairs. "Reaper, I need you down here!" 

_Good... good..._ Ink closed his sockets, resting his head against Error's cheek. _Good... let my dust be with my family..._ Though he was sure he'd passed the point of actually dusting away.

But Error didn't know that, did he? Ink still wasn't entirely sure just what kind of terrible sight he had made following Aftertale's destruction, but someone in the midst of dusting wasn't a pretty thing to see. And for Error to be witnessing the dust on his body yet again... _Poor Ru..._ It must be scary for him.

Well, judging by all the white, there was no question about just how afraid Error was. "I... I'll b-" a sharp cough interrupted Ink. When his blurry vision cleared a bit, he saw speckles of black and gray splattered across Error's distraught expression. "...S-sorry..." he choked.

H-huh, more white. Guess that's Reaper sho- 

"INK!" Reaper screeched.

-showed up.

Very little about this was funny. His husbands' fear, the pain he was in... it was all so terrible. And yet, Ink found himself wheezing through another fit of laughter because he was _alive._ Dusty and broken, but alive.

If only he didn't black out before he could tell his family he would probably stay that way.

———

He wasn't sure how long it took for him to wake up this time. In all honesty, Ink was surprised that he awoke at all. He wasn't going to complain though. Instead, the artist opened his mouth to mumble something along the lines of 'holy shit I'm alive,' but air was all that escaped instead. _Of course..._ Sighing, he let his teeth clank close and settled back down for now, arms tightening around- _Oh._

Geno. They put Geno in his arms while he was asleep. That realization warmed his chest, yet Ink was helpless against the tears that steadily filled his eyes. _It's not fair... How long has it been since I've heard your voice?_ Months. **Months,** and Ink almost **died**, and Geno wouldn't have know.

Ink buried his face in Geno's shoulder, muffling his weak cries. _I'm sorry...! G-Geno, you don't deserve any of this...! Stars dammit, I... I j-just want you to come back...!_

Something shifted. Either a color or a movement. Ink wasn't sure which it was, but, arms slowly encircled him, and a soft voice rasped out, "Ink...?"


	37. Geno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, what can we sayyyy except, "you're welcome"? ("You're welcome~!")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note**: There is a brief NSFW flashback scene! It's 7 italicized lines long starting with _"You know..."_

Ink froze, his heart going still in his chest at the call of his name. _That… that voice…_ he knew it, spent the last few weeks yearning to hear it, and now it was—

“Geno,” he breathed, tearful gaze lifting to meet Geno’s bleary stare. “Stars, you- _Geno,_ baby, you’re… you’re awake! Oh gods, you’re…” Slowly, his enthusiasm diminished. Geno was awake, but…

He was starting to look scared.

“Ge-”

With a flinch, the little glitch jerked away from Ink and scrambled back desperately, only stopping when he nearly toppled off the bed. “I… I d-don’t… I-” Abruptly, Geno clicked his mouth shut and fell silent, arms wrapping around himself in a pitiful attempt at self-comfort.

“Ge…” Ink tried, keeping his distance when reaching out to the smaller skeleton resulted in a flinch. “Geno, baby, it’s… it’s me, honey. It’s Inky.” Voice cracking, he added, _“Your_ Inky,” in an attempt to ease the white starting to cloud his vision. “I promise, honey. It’s me.”

Geno kept his silence, but his distrust in Ink was betrayed by the terrified hitches in his panicked breathing as small, poorly muffled sobs broke through his tense smile. “...”

_How many times have you stepped into my arms just to realize that it wasn’t me?_ Ink wondered, watching his littlest husband with sorrowful symbols. “Geno… I promise it’s me. I… I know that doesn’t mean a lot to you right now, but I swear I’m telling the truth. It’s _your_ Inky, okay? And I’m not going to hurt you. Stars, I- I would _never_ hurt you. Not my precious Ge.” When all he got was a stifle whimper in response, Ink swallowed down his nausea and murmured, “I… I’m going to come closer, okay? But I swear I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just—”

Geno _shrieked_ when he shifted in place, eyelight pulsing weakly with magic he couldn’t afford to waste. “N-nonono…! Pl-please, I don’t- _no!”_ he cried out, flinching at the sound of his own voice and slapping his hands over his mouth, horrified. 

A scared eyelight examined Ink. Distraught, yet _searching._

_...He… thinks I’m going to punish him…?_ For what though? Speaking? Daring to tell him no? Various other possibilities filtered through Ink’s head. Each was somehow worse than the last.

“I… I won’t move,” he promised, trying not to stiffen when his nonexistent ears picked up the sound of rushed footsteps. _Shit, that’s Error and—_

“Ink, are yo—Geno!” Reaper cried, freezing in the doorway with Error right behind him. “You’re- you- oh gods, _Gen! Gen!”_

Trembling, the glitch choked out a strangled noise that might have been the god’s name if frightened sobs hadn’t distorted the sound. 

“Ink, what…” Seeing his brother’s flickering eyelight dart in his direction, Error swallowed thickly and halted the rest of his word. _Fuck, he… he looks…_

_At first, Error didn’t recognize the skeleton in the mirror. Wide, terrified eyes, a smile that looked like a silent scream, and horror etched into the magic burned under sockets…_

_The skeleton in the mirror looked… scarred. Broken._

_They looked like a victim._

_“That… that can’t be-”_

_-Me,_ Error thought, eyes burning with the realization. In that moment, Geno looked exactly like he did all those years ago. “H-hey… hey, Glitchface…” he greeted, voice thick with tears. 

For a long moment, Geno merely stared at them all, his eyelight constantly jumping from person to person with a desperation that hurt them all. After a few moments, he swallowed nervously and opened his mouth, then closed it. Open, close, open, close, open…

“...C...Cr...ee…?” he whispered.

Simultaneously, Ink and Error froze, though their reasons were different. For Ink, it was an odd sense of… something. He couldn’t name the strange feeling inside him, but it… chilled him. No, it didn’t. It… it made him feel warm. But no, it didn’t. The word left him… stuck in the middle of a dozen contradicting sensations. Happiness versus sorrow. Comfort versus discomfort. Peace versus discourse. There was so much within him, yet none of it made sense. 

Before he could find even an inkling of understanding, the strange sensations changed and Ink just felt… confused.

“Cree?” he questioned Geno, intent on asking more when a surge of white had his attention jumping to— “Error? _Error,_ what’s wrong?!”

The destroyer didn’t hear him.

_“You know, lover,” a cool tendril slid up his femur, “there’s these nifty little words that people use when… pleasure becomes too much to handle. They call them ‘safewords.’ Out of a concern for you, I’ve decided…” white teeth flashed in a smile when a teasing touch left Error arching in pleasure. “...Hm, make that face again.”_

_Moaning, Error happily complied._

_“Good boy. Anyways, I’ve decided that you’ll be given a safeword. Why, I even have one in mind this very moment. Learn it, lover, and learn it well. Understand?”_

_“Y-yes—oh gods, do that—yesyesyes…!”_

_“Good. Now, repeat after me...”_

_Those cool, slick limbs readjusted his heated form, positioning Error perfectly to take the eager member throbbing at his willing entrance._

_“...Cree,” Nightmare purred just as he pushed inside._

Breathing heavily, the destroyer stumbled forward and dropped to his knees before the bed, staring up at his brother with a horrified gaze. “Ge… GEnO… h-how-! DiD… dId _hE…_ t… tEaCh you th… tHaT wOrD…?” Forcing the words out almost hurt, but Error didn’t let himself stop until he finished the entire question. He had to know. _He had to…!_

They could only guess at what Geno expected to happen after he spoke, but whatever uncertainties the glitch had seemed to be resolved after seeing their reactions. “R… Ru…?” he whispered, ignoring the question for now. 

_Please, please tell me…! Tell me why he taught you that word! Tell me what he made you do,_ Error wanted to say, but he couldn’t form anything else when his tongues felt so heavy and numb. Instead, he nodded jerkily, forced to accept that, at the very least, he could reassure both himself and his brother that Geno was safe _now._ Questions could come later.

“I.. Ink...y…?” Geno’s gaze slid to Reaper next, terrified but oh so _hopeful._ “Re… Reap...sy…?”

With a desperate trill, Reaper stumbled forward; briefly forgetting his own abilities in the face of his precious first—his Gen, finally, _finally_ awake. “It… it’s us, Gen. Gods, it’s—” once closer, the god hesitated. He didn’t want to scare the smaller skeleton anymore than Geno already seemed to be. “...Gods, your… your voice is wonderful… and your _eye!”_ Geno’s eyelight was like a perfect snowflake, or… or a lone star in the night sky. It was- _he was-_ “Beautiful,” Reaper whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Tears spilled down Geno’s cheek.

_He_ only ever called Geno beautiful when he was screaming in pain. Otherwise, Nightmare insisted that he was nothing special, like an ugly, broken doll that lost its appeal long, long ago.

Hesitantly, the god’s hand came up to rest on Geno’s cheek.

No claws.

No harsh smack.

Just… a gentle, familiar warmth. 

Not Nightmare.

_Reaper._

“Re-” Voice giving out on him, Geno sobbed and raised his arms like a child seeking attention, silently pleading for his husband. _Please, please…!_

With an unsteady warble, Reaper swept the glitch into his arms and held him close, crying hard as he pressed desperate kisses all across his face and skull, crooning, “Gen! _Gen!_ My Gen!” like a broken record. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Ink joined the embrace. Then Error. They were all careful to leave Geno’s eye unobstructed, but that didn’t stop any of them from holding on tight. Not just to Geno though, but to each other as well because—

“You almost died,” Error whispered, face pressed into Ink’s shoulder as his arms stretched to reach his other husband and brother as well. “Fuck, Inky, you almost died.”

—they all had reasons to reassure themselves that they were all safe. 

After a moment, Geno began to squirm. “L… let me… _s-space…!”_

Immediately, the others released the glitch and shuffled back. Not too far, but just enough to allow Geno some breathing room. “Are… are you- I mean, do you… can we do anything, Gen?” 

_What did Nightmare do to you? What does that word you said mean? Why are you suddenly awake? How much do you-!_

Error exhaled heavily, tense. There were so many questions they had to ask the glitch, but Geno himself was the one who needed to know something. “Ge- Glitchface, I… we have to… teLl yOu… s… sOmeThInG…”

Clearly nervous, Geno shrunk back a bit and slowly nodded to show Error he was listening. 

“Y… You… y-you’re…”

Reaper spoke up with a worried noise, asking, “Ru, do we have to do this now? He- it’s a lot, isn’t it? And-”

“He n-needs t… to kn...know…!” Error insisted.

When the two glanced at him for input, Ink shifted. _I… I don’t want Geno to think the worst. Not like we did. And it is a lot, but…_ “Ge, honey, you’re…” pointedly, his eyelights lowered, settling on Geno’s stomach.

The glitch froze.

“...Y’know…?” he managed, the voice crackling with dry disused. Shakily, his own arms came up to wrap around his stomach, though Geno’s expression filtered through a series of complex emotions when he felt a curve he didn’t quite remember. “...H...ow… l-long…?”

Confusion. No fear.

No _surprise._

_“You_ knew?” Error shot back, slowly processing this fact alongside his husbands. _How long?_ How long did they know? If so, then _he_ wanted to know the same damn thing! Geno- fuck, did he always know? Even before their capture? _No… No, he couldn’t have. Geno wouldn’t have asked us to just leave him behind back then if he knew about the—_

Geno’s wounded cry had Error’s gaze snapping up from where it dropped to his lap as he thought. Upon finding his brother safe and sound, he relaxed, but just slightly. Geno’s distraught expression as he gazed down at the stomach he revealed himself was enough to keep some tension in his shoulders.

“C… color…?” Pulling his shirt up higher with one hand, Geno shakily reached down and smoothed a hand over his curved flesh, feeling the weight he gained from pregnancy and _knowing_ that he was heavier than he should have been at just a single month. Not just that, but, “T-two…?”

Twins. He… he was having _twins?_ That explained some of the weight, but not all of it. He wasn’t- he remembered what he looked like with Goth, and this-

“How… h-how l… long…?” he repeated, desperate.

Reaper was the first one to realize what Geno was _really_ asking. “It… it’s been about three months, Gen.”

Breath hitching, the glitch stared down at his stomach, his _children,_ in shock. _Three… three months…?_ That explained why he was showing, and… and why the soulings had their magical traits colored already… but… but _three?_ That didn’t match up with- the last he knew-

“Y’know… they’re y… yours…?” he whispered, attempting to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control. _It’s fine. It… it’s fine._

"Error said the soulings were trying to glow for Ink and I, Gen," Reaper crooned, smiling slightly at the sight of the little souls doing the same for their mother at that very moment. “How… how did you know that they were ours though, hon? And… _how long_ have you known…?”

Sniffling, Geno raised a hand and rubbed at his face to clear away his tears. At the sensation of uneven bone against his hand however, he shivered. _I... I forgot..._ Killer, the k-knife...

Blinking away another wave of sorrow, the glitch tried to ignore the strange feeling against his hands and continued wiping at his socket and face to stop his crying. “I… I didn’t re… realize at first, but… m’ecto wasn’t… I couldn’t get it t-to go away, so I suspected…” and he ended up being correct. "I… m’just…” he hesitated. 

"Ge...?"

When his stubborn tears wouldn't stop, Geno dropped his hands from his face to settle his palms over his stomach, his smile a weak, fragile little thing when the soulings began to glow in response to their mother’s active touch. "...T-thought Ni...N-nighty... would hurt th...them.” It was always a risk beforehand, but… but being out of it for _three months?_ That was… Stars, anything could have happened to his child. His _children,_ because his assumptions that he was only carrying one was apparently wrong. “I… I’m really… glad he d-didn’t… hurt them…”

_How many times had that asshole threatened it though...?_ the others had lost track. 

_We're still not in the clear..._ Ink shuddered, hand reaching up for his- "E-excuse me… I’m going to… to get everyone some… food," he whispered, slowly sliding off the bed. If he didn't move too fast, maybe Geno wouldn’t notice- 

Error reached out and grabbed his arm. "Not without help you're not. Ink, you nearly-" A sharp, wide-eyed look had the destroyer falling quiet for a moment. "I'm coming with you, alright, asshole?"

"...Okay." Ink whispered, his desperation to get out quick stronger than his usual stubbornness. Leaving... it was far from what he wanted to do now that Geno was awake, but he... Stars, Geno had so much to be caught up on. His littlest husband suffered through so much after all, and Ink was wearing _evidence_ of that; proof of a torture Geno was potentially unaware his SOUL faced. Ink couldn't... he didn't want to- 

"I'm going to help Ink downstairs so that we can whip something up for breakfast. Reaps, you mind checking over Geno?" As he spoke, Error slowly helped Ink to the door, an arm slung high over the taller's neck to disguise the red of the collar. 

"E-Error, I'm… I’m fi-"

"Glitchface, you haven't moved in _weeks._ Let Reaps look over you, okay? Now that you're awake, you can help us figure out if anything is wrong. I'll be up with food once Ink and I are done."

Geno dragged himself closer to Reaper, hesitantly leaning into the embrace the god was more than happy to offer him. “O...okay..." 

Ink and Error left out the hall and Reaper turned towards Geno whispering, "Gen, can I kiss you...?"

———

Once he was sure they were out of earshot and visual, Ink wrapped his other arm around Error and tried hard to control his breathing. "R...Ru... I n-need to tell you about m-my mission-"

"Not right now."

Any other time, Error would have been on his knees begging for Ink to share what was going through his head all while making room between those pleas for insults about his bullheadedness. Right now though? Stars, he didn't want to know how the mission went, or anything that happened during it. The dust he helped wiped off of his first told quite a bit of the story on its own and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear the rest. 

"You're alive, Ink. Stars, you're _alive_ and Geno is _awake._ Can... Ink, please take a moment and enjoy this. Fuck, at least give _me_ a moment to enjoy everything!" _I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought my last memory of you was going to be your fucking **back** while you slept._

"...I saw Dream, Ru," Ink whispered.

Error froze and tried to work through the crash that wanted to overtake him. "D-Dream...?" 

"H-he wasn't supposed to be there...! A-and... and I just-" 

_Stars... did Ink-? No... h-hehe no no he-_

Ink tightened his grip on Error's hands, trying to center the both of them away from their fears. "He's fine... physically.. I um... I st-stumbled back here before I could see him..." 

"He's not dead...?" 

"What? Gods, Error no... no..."

Right. _R-right._ Ink... Ink wouldn't do that. Not to Dream.

Realizing that they were stalled in the middle of the hall, Error shook his head to rid himself of useless thoughts and carefully helped Ink to and down the stairs. "How...h-how did y-you...?"

"I went to the Doodle Sphere,” Ink whispered; wary of being heard by unwanted, nosey ears. _They really needed to sweep for bugs one day._ Then again, if any were hidden in their walls, they would have been screwed over long ago. Also, they didn’t have the equipment to do so... "I... I was hoping to- I thought going there would help me."

"Ink," Error whispered back. His voice was soft, but Ink knew that tone well. Sure enough, his husband's next words were, "You're a fucking idiot. The Doodle Sphere is your-"

"Base of operations. I... I _know,_ Ru. I just- there was so much going on, hon. It just... slipped my mind, I guess." He thought he was going to die. Stars, he was agonizing so much over never seeing anyone he loved ever again that logic... there _was_ no logic behind his thought process. Just a terrible resignation. "He... he looks tired. Sad, too. Stars, Error, he's still so beautiful though. And... and stubborn. He said-" When he laughed, his voice cracked in a way that told of held back tears. "He said I wasn't allowed to die."

"Ink..." 

"He said he wasn't going to _let_ me die, and I had to make him promise to... to 'don't let yourself dust trying to save me.' I... kinda wish I got to see him again before coming back here..." Here is when Ink looked away. "Nightmare wants you to report to him about my mission. He said 'in a few days' but that was when I came back..."

With Ink braced against him as they walked, there was no way the artist didn't feel the way he stiffened upon hearing the news. "Did he give you an _exact_ time, Ink?"

"No, he... like I said, Ru, Nightmare just told me 'in a few days.' He didn't say how many counts as a few."

O...okay. Okay. Nightmare didn't specify, so Error... he could work with that. Possibly.

Stars, he hoped he could twist that to benefit himself. "Ink, you've been asleep for nearly a week." Six days... that could count as 'a few,' right?

Ink flinched hard, tightening his grip on Error. "....I'm coming with you." 

"No-" 

"Ru, _yes._ But first, let's get that food we promised them." 

Error grit his teeth. "Ink, I'm not letting you come with me." 

_"I'm afraid of Nightmare..."_

Ink set his jaw, staring back at Error.

Stubborn himself, Error stared back with a frown. "Ink, this isn't something we're going to argue over."

"Okay then, so I'm going and we won't argue. Perfect."

Ink's recent injuries and current poor state was all that kept Error from shaking him in frustration. "Ink, listen to me. No," he snapped, glaring when the artist's opened his mouth. "No, don't talk. _Listen_, I said. I... I get it, okay? I wouldn't want you alone with that asshole anymore than you'd want me to be, but... You weren't invited, Ink." Quieter, with a distinctive growl in his voice, Error murmured, "You weren't _ordered_ to be there." And that made all the difference.

Things weren't getting any easier. It was something they all knew but didn't want to acknowledge. No matter how much time they spent here, their path wasn't getting any smoother than it had been when they first arrived. Ink showing up with him... There was too much uncertainty concerning what Nightmare's reaction would be. The king didn't outright state Ink _couldn't_ join him, but there was also no mention of Ink being _allowed_ to do so. 

_Damned if you do, damned if you don't..._ but Error had much more experience on his side in dealing with Nightmare than Ink did. In situations like this, following Nightmare's orders as closely as possible was the best way to go. And that meant going alone.

"You're scared..." Ink whispered. _Much more than you'd ever be willing to admit._ "Error, I... I'm really not comfortable letting you go alone." 

Error shook his head with a stubborn frown. "You can barely even walk, idiot. Just... stay here. Heal as much as you can before you're put back to work. Catch up with Geno. Do... something, Ink, but _you can't come with me."_

_Catch up with Geno._ Right... because he spent a long time- Ink shuddered. "R-Ru..." he whispered, reaching up to touch the collar. 

Error glanced at it, and looked away quickly. "He's going to find out, and it'd be better if it was you who told him." 

"It's his fucking _SOUL-"_

"I _know,_ but..." he sighed. "Inky... l-let me try to protect you, fool... please..." 

The way his name was said. The weariness in his voice, even as he pleaded with Ink. The tired expression and the colors that hinted at his expectation of more resistance but hoping it wouldn't happen. 

Ink broke slightly more and glanced away. "....I won't like it... but... if you think it's best." 

Surprise flared hotly through Error's SOUL, and that soft pink bloomed in its place. And relief, of course. "Thank you Ink." _Fucking finally..._

_Please, don't thank me..._ Agreeing to stay behind while Error went off to the meeting did not mean acceptance of the fact that his first was going to be alone with Nightmare, of all terrible creatures. Ink... he wasn't happy. He didn't want to be thanked for putting his husbands in danger. "Ru..."

The shorter skeleton leaned up for a kiss. Without Ink's death looming over their head, it was far sweeter than the ones they shared the night before the empath's mission. "I'll be careful, Ink." Being careful wasn't always enough, but Error would do whatever he could to keep his family and himself safe. 

Ink drew him in for another kiss when Error pulled away. "When do you plan to leave?" He murmured against Error's grin. Before the destroyer could answer, he pressed their smiles together more firmly. 

"Ink..." Error tried, attempting to break apart to speak. It was a very, very weak attempt. _Stars, I... I almost lost this forever. I almost lost **him.**_ It was enough for him to press his weight into Ink. 

Due to his body's condition, Ink wasn't able to support Error. Instead of breaking the kiss or wavering; however, he let himself stumble back. Back...back... back... 

His legs hit the edge of the armchair and Ink tumbled back. It knocked the air out of his lungs, but that didn't stop him from reaching out and pulling Error down onto him for another increasingly desperate kiss. _I don't want to let you go. Stars, I don't want you anywhere near Nightmare._ Not when the bastard struck terror into Error's SOUL.

Error made a noise when an arm slid around his lumbar. Greedily, his husband swallowed it up. _You almost died. Fuck, you really almost died._ Briefly, he pulled away; gasping, "Ink, you-"

The artist yanked him back down again. It was just them, in that moment, and that’s what they needed.


	38. The Error of His Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Error has a lapse in judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Uncomfortable sexual situations, dubious consent. No actual sex, however.

Though Error and Ink had wanted nothing more than to have dessert, the former insisted on an actual meal before he went to see Nightmare. They brought the admittedly light food upstairs and ate together. All of their members awake once again. As they wound down, Error became noticeably twitchy, until he excused himself to go see Nightmare.

_Better to get this shit out of the way, right?_

And it wasn't until he stood in the throne room, awaiting Nightmare's arrival that the half-eaten sandwich and tea started to settle uncomfortably within him. Stars, he wanted nothing more than to go back and cuddle his husbands and suggest awful names for the children, like he was certain Ink was doing now.

_By now, 'Ink Junior' has probably been suggested at least a dozen times..._ The thought was enough to make him crack a small smile. With Nightmare not yet there, he was comfortable with letting the warm expression linger. _I had to suffer through him suggesting the damn name for PJ throughout my entire pregnancy._

Ink Junior, Inky, Inko... most of the names his first came up with were mainly jokes, but there were some that Error would _never_ admit had merit if they ever wanted to name a child after Ink. Personally, he actually liked Inkling. It made him think of tiny Ink copies.

_Splotch is kind of cute, too..._ In a weird way, yeah, but still cute. _Smudge too, maybe?_ They weren't normal names by any means, but their oldest was named Paperjam, so normality was already out the window. "What about Reaper? Inkling... Death?" No, that was dumb. "Inkling Demise? Ruin? Fuck, why is he so hard to name a kid after? Inkling... Mort? Ugh, this-"

"Error?"

At once, the good mood he managed to put himself into drained away. That wasn't Nightmare's voice, but he definitely didn't like the tone Cross was using. "...What?" he questioned, already wary.

When he turned to face his fellow second, Error's unease only grew all the more at the sight of Cross' own discomforted expression. "I've been ordered to notify you that the meeting you requested with Nightmare in order to discuss Ink's mission has been moved."

Moved? Why would it be moved? "To when?"

Slowly, Cross shook his head. "Not when, Error. _Where,_ is the question. You're... you're to meet him in his personal chambers. Within the next ten minutes."

_Sonnovabitch..._ Error grit his teeth and glanced away. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Hell, this was probably punishment for 'waiting too long' to call a meeting. _Fuck..._

"Fine. Walk with me," he muttered, starting his path towards the private chambers.

Hesitantly, Cross followed.

The two walked in silence, both having horrible feelings about what was potentially going to go down. It wasn't that Error wanted to talk about anything, but he figured having Cross nearby, if only up to the door, would help a little.

It didn't. Not as much as he would've liked.

"Do you want me to...?" Trailing off, the white and black skeleton motioned to the doors of Nightmare's private chamber.

It was a vague gesture, but Error understood the meaning behind it. "No," he murmured, voice low to keep their conversation between themselves. "Don't stand guard. Just... return to any duties you have lined up for today. I'll be okay, Rookie." _I don't want you to hear anything if it turns out I'm wrong._

Unspoken words were so easily heard when someone knew you well. "Just because you have to go in alone doesn't mean you need to _be_ alone in this, Error. I can wait here until you're finished." _I can be ready to interrupt if things go too far._

"...I'll be fine, Cross. Don't worr-"

"Don't tell me not worry." Cross whispered. When he stepped closer, there was something desperate in his gaze that reminded Error of the way Ink looked at him not too long ago when seeing him off for this meeting. "Error, I... I..."

In that moment, Error felt the weight of everything left unsaid between the two. "...Down the hall, at the top of the stairs. Wait for me there, Cross. Don't let your shield drop no matter what you hear."

With a solemn nod, the other skeleton retreated to where Error directed. Once he was out of sight, Error turned to the doors and tapped out a knock with his knuckles. "My king." he called, voice raised only as much as required to be heard through the thick wood.

"Enter."

And as commanded, he did.

_"Night," Error gasped, back arched as he shuddered with pleasure on the sheets of the king's bed._

Error blinked, and it was no longer the bed he saw himself trembling on. It was the sturdy desk in the corner of the room. Another blink, and it was the luxurious sofa in the small sitting area. Again, he blinked. It was the wall next to a portrait of the king. With every blink, Error saw himself _everywhere._

The fine, soft rug, the stained glass window, the balcony seen through the window... Everywhere he looked, his shameful history mocked him with glimpses of his own debauched past. By the time his gaze landed on the small table set for two and the smirking king lounging in one of the chairs, he was ill from the thought of everything that ever occurred within these walls.

And Nightmare knew it, too. "Good evening, lover," the king purred. "Why don't you come join me for a drink?"

_It's never just a drink..._ but Error took his seat at the table, on the opposite side his king. As he sat, he tried to make it look more... natural. He tried to ignore the tension tightening every part of his being into too many knots to count. Knots, he was sure, Nightmare would mention.

"My king-"

"No," he poured Error a glass of wine, then himself one.

"....Nighty."

Nightmare smiled, inclining his head towards the destroyer. _Go on._

"....I'm under the impression that this is supposed to be a professional meeting, therefore, I'd like to make this quick-"

"Oh, jumping right into things, are we?"

His grin strained, teeth gritting with the annoyance he couldn't let bleed into his tone. "Yes, Nighty. There's quite a bit to discuss and I'd prefer for this meeting not to bleed into your free time." All he had to do was keep things professional. That was easier said than done, but it was worth a shot.

"Quite a bit to discuss, you say? Well now, I think I have to agree with you there, Error. After all..."

Beneath the cover of the lengthy tablecloth spilling over the edges of the table, Nightmare nudged him with a lengthened tendril. Error didn't return the playful prodding, but the king didn't seem to care as he took the initiative to hook the slick appendage around the other's leg, tethering them together in a manner that kept the destroyer from pushing his chair back for distance.

"...It's been six years since you first left me, lover. That's quite an absence to mull over, don't you think? There's _so much_ to catch up on now that we're finally alone."

"My ki- _Nighty,_ you requested a report on Ink's mission."

Another tendril came around and latched onto his other leg. With a strength that came easy to him, Nightmare forced his legs wide. "Oh Error, don't tell me your absence muddled with your memory. You know me better than this, don't you? Dancetale is destroyed. That's all the knowledge I need to know my empath did well." The tendrils tightened and yanked Error forward when they felt him try to move.

Unfortunately for Error, this meant that he was all but slammed into the table. With no ecto formed to cushion his body, this meant that his lower ribs were dealt a nasty hit as they rammed into the edge of the table. "Night-!" he gasped, wheezing in pain.

He was only pulled in all that much closer. Table pressed close before him, chair behind him... Error was trapped; helpless to the bright, hungry gaze of the king and the third tendril tapping the chair just between his legs in warning. "I missed you, lover, so let's... catch up."

Error clenched his fists together. So far, the only parts of him that weren't trapped. Yet. He forced one of them open and took the glass of wine, having such a storm of emotions within himself that it was hard for either to keep track. Fear? _Rage?_ The sickening nostalgia he hated at being here? The even more repulsive tendrils trapping him there?

_You're torturing my brother and my husbands. You sent Ink to die._

He was sick of it.

"We've been here for, what, three months? You don't care for an update about my life. You don't _really_ miss me. I'm just a number to you. You might miss the extra boost of negativity you get from me, but that drug isn't _me._" He raised the glass of wine, working against his bruising ribs to take a sip of it. "Some things don't change... you still seem to like this flavor." Error set the glass down and stared Nightmare in the eye. "What, are you trying to ask me for sex without actually asking? Or are you planning to take me, _regardless of my consent?"_

Infuriatingly, Nightmare showed no reaction beyond a slight smile quickly hidden behind his glass. For a long moment, he savored a mouthful of the deep crimson of his favored drink before gently setting the glass aside.

When he looked to Error with that small, pleasant smile still in place, Nightmare's gaze was bright with amusement; the toxic color electric in the dim candle-lit room. "Regardless of your consent? Oh, Error. Are you truly still convincing yourself I ever gave you anything you didn't want?" he questioned, the same amusement from his bright gaze heard in his voice.

Briefly, shame filtered through Error. He chased it away with another sip of wine. "Don't... don't pull that bullshit with me. You know I stopped wanting it." He tried looking away from the king, but everywhere he turned his gaze left him with more of those unsavory, shaming memories. "Don't you dare fucking tell me I wanted to be raped."

"And there it is, that ugly, ugly word..." Sighing, Nightmare unraveled his tendrils from Error. When the destroyer pushed himself from the table and stood, he didn't stop him. "You never were good at admitting the truth, lover. Tell me, did the lies make you feel better? Did telling yourself you didn't like it make it easier to sleep around? Surely it did, because you threw away what we had together so easily."

"I didn't-"

"You loved it, Error. Even when you told me to stop, you didn't mean it. Deep down inside, you're a little masochist who craved everything I gave you. Maybe Inky gives it to you better, but don't soil what we had with lies."

Error stepped forward, heart racing and fingers itching with the need to... to... "Y-you're wrong." he whispered. The words were hard to say.

Nightmare never once broke their stare. Bright, toxic gaze intense, he raised a brow. "I want to have sex with you, my straying lover, but I won't force you. I won't tear you out of those clothes, or pin you down, or take you as hard as you used to beg me to."

"Liar..." Error choked, shuddering.

"Don't believe me? Very well, then I'll let you leave my chambers now to prove my point. Run along, Error. I can pleasure myself." As if in example, Nightmare skimmed his fingertips over his pelvis.

Error shook as he tracked the motion with his gaze. "You... you..."

Nightmare chuckled. The sound startled Error into tearing his gaze away to meet the king's eye once again. Embarrassment more akin to shame warmed his face. "Funny... you look like you want to stay."

He didn't! He... he didn't....

Slowly, Nightmare pushed himself up from his chair. Error didn't move back when he advanced. "You look like you want more than just that," he purred, voice low. "You look like you want my company... like you're starved for every last thing you denied you ever enjoyed from me." Pausing just out of reach, Nightmare whispered with a bright, gleaming gaze, "You look just about ready to fall back into my arms. Into my _bed._ Why, if I kissed you now-"

Something within him wavered and Error surged forward for a kiss Nightmare eagerly accepted.

Immediately, Error pulled away. "I... I..."

Eerily similar to Ink from earlier, Nightmare yanked him back down for another kiss. It was... it was....

A tongue invaded his mouth and Error unwillingly moaned, the sound startled out of him as a taste he never truly forgot settled across his tongues. Nightmare's magic... it was electric. His magic sparkled across every tongue the king coaxed into a dance and tasted of the rain that fell from dark clouds made bright with lightning. No matter how foul the man behind the magic was, there was no denying the pleasurable sensation derived from his kiss.

_This... this is wrong..._ and yet Error couldn't scavenge the will to break away. He could barely think pass the hungry kiss that devoured his every sound and stole away his every thought until his head was fuzzy with a pleasure that should have sickened him, but didn't. _...I... I'm married..._ To Ink, to Reaper... Stars, he was dating Nightmare's brother for fuck's-

Lost in the sensation of their kiss, Error failed to realize he was being lead backwards until he toppled back onto the bed within the room in set another mirror of his husband's earlier actions. _Inky... I... shouldn't be doing this when Ink and I were just-_

A weight settled over him and Error whined. There was a pressure against his pelvis he had to fight not grind himself up into. "N-Nighty," he panted, staring up with a dazed expression at the bright, bright, hungry stare eyeing him from above. Green... such a lovely, bright green..._Ink's eyes don't usually turn green,_ he distantly thought. As for Reaper's they were always those unsettling voids of black that somehow wore love so well. And Dream's... his eyes were that pretty gold. Not green. "I...I want to..."__

He was caught in another kiss that left him dizzy. Mercifully, Nightmare pulled away after quite some time to allow him a moment to catch his breath, but the king didn't remain still. Instead, he coaxed Error's head to the side and trailed his teeth down his neck. When he bit down harshly, Error yelped.

The grind of an erection into his stirring magic turned it into a moan. _I hope Cross didn't hear that..._ Panting, he shifted his hips up in search for another taste of that pleasurable contact. _Stars, he's going to be embarrassed if he did. He always did fluster so easily._ Maybe Error shouldn't have let him wait...

_ _Wait...?_ _

Why...? Why was Cross wait- "Error," Nightmare purred, pulling away from a new mark sucked into the destroyer's neck to gaze down at him. "Look at me, lover. I want to see your face."

When did his eyes shut...?

Slowly, Error forced his heavy sockets open. Green... Green, green, green... "Nighty," he begged, shifting restlessly with a flush across his face. Stars, it felt good, but he knew it could feel better. "I... gods, please, Nighty, I need more...!"

His burst of shame was swallowed up by pleasure as a hand teased him through his shorts. He couldn't remember his magic forming, but there was no doubt it was, beneath Nightmare's fingers.

"More?" The king purred.

Error whined, bucking into the hand. "Y-yes! Yes!"

"Say you want it, Error."

"I... I want it!"

"Say you want to be fucked."

"I want to be fucked!"

"By me?"

"Y-yes!" Gods, he wanted it so badly.

Nightmare leaned back with a victorious smirk. "You want what I have to give you then?" he purred, a hand tucked away into his pocket as a tendril guided Error onto his knees before him.

"Y-yes! Yes! Stars, Nighty give me everything. I... I want it! I want anything you'll give me!"

Something slid over his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught gold but he couldn't bring himself to turn and look at whatever he now wore. Not if it meant having to look away from Nightmare.

"Then have this, lover," Nightmare purred, tugging him forward into another kiss. When they broke away, his smirk was so close to Error's yearning grin that every word skimmed their teeth together in a teasing kiss. "Use it to remember this moment the next time you try to claim anything I ever gave you was forced." With that, Nightmare blinked; his dull gaze filled with victory.

Confusion slowly trickled in through Error's sluggish mind.

And then, horror.

What... what am I...? Scrambling back until he had no where else to go, Error watched Nightmare with wide, horrified eyes. Between his legs, excitement still burned with slick heat as arousal lingered through him. "Wha-" he choked on his own tongues; the tingle of Nightmare's magic still present within his mouth. "Wh...w-what did y-you...y-y-you do...?"

Nightmare watched him with an amused brow raised. "Nothing you didn't want, lover. But oh, look at the time. It's getting late now, Error, and you have missions in the morning. Why don't you get going? You don't look like you want to continue anymore and I wouldn't want to force you into anything you didn't want. Even if you did just say you wanted to be fucked by me."

"I... I d-didn't-"

"Run along, Error," Nightmare murmured. _"Run." _

Time moved too fast and slow for him to keep track of. He saw Nightmare glacially collect his tendrils behind himself.

But then Cross was at his side, asking what happened with a lowered voice.

And then he was in front of his door, staring wildly at it. No... no not y-yet, I- His entire body burned with his haphephobia, and tears streamed down his face. Cross, though only a few steps away, called to him again, "Error...? Error!"

"W....h....wh.....wha.....ah....wh..." he grit his teeth and shot a glare to Cross. What?!

Expression carefully neutral, Cross nodded down one of the halls. "Care to spar outside for a bit? You've been cooped up in your rooms for nearly a week. Some exercise would do you good."

They were mostly bullshit excuses, and both seconds knew that, but... Error gave a sharp nod and followed after Cross.

Hopefully.... hopefully he can get some time to calm down. Stars... gods... anyone, don't let his fucking haphephobia keep him from holding Ink tonight, dammit...!

Cool air tickled his face, drawing Error out from his thoughts before they could spiral. They were at the doors already...? He could have sworn they were only just in front of his rooms.

"Error," Cross murmured. "What do you need?"

_ I need to get out. I... fuck, I need to get out of this castle for good._ But Cross already knew that, didn't he? There was a reason he picked to escape outside the castle walls rather than to one of the training rooms. It was the closest Cross could get him to freedom. "O-one on one, ra...r-ranged weapons. M-my strings verses y-your... y-y....y...."

"My sword," Came the merciful whisper.

Error was already drawing his strings down with shaking hands, and Cross hesitated only a second before summoning his own weapon.

Technically, a sword wasn't a ranged weapon as Error had requested. That was fine though, Cross knew, because when it really came down to it, Error didn't give a damn about what either of them fought with, or even about the spar. All the destroyer needed was something to keep his mind busy, and space.

And they both knew Cross could provide both those things.

"Ready, Teach?"

The tears staining Error's cheeks caught the light of the ever-present moon hanging over their heads. When he nodded, the blue magic shown silver. "T-three..."

"Two."

"O... o-one..."

"Start."


	39. We'll Cross That Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Error and Cross spar, talk, and some decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Possibly uncomfortable discussion in regards to sexual assault.

Error attacked first, barely allowing Cross a chance to tighten his grip on the weapon before strings were attempting to rip it away. Acting on instinct born from years of training, Cross leapt away, slashing the strings to scraps. 

Even that bit didn't help in the long run. Those strings attacked again and again in a chaotic, relentless mess of blue from nearly all sides. In many places, the strings tangled over itself. Knots flew when cut. Several lightly bumped against Error or Cross, while others would go shooting off into the distant trees.

It was violent, messy... and desperate. 

Every time Error dragged his tear-born threads from his eyes, it was if he was attempting to claw out his very own sorrow. He sobbed as he attacked, quickly growing breathless and blind as his crying took its toll, but the destroyer never once stopped his relentless assault. Instead, he pushed himself harder and harder until finally, _finally_ he landed a hit.

"Ouch!" Cross yelped as he switched his hold on his sword to his right hand in order to bring the left up. With a hiss, he inspected the thin cut across three different knuckles and brought the shallow wound up to his mouth to soothe the sting. "First blood goes to you, Teach."

Once, the small victory would have felt good. Error, prideful as can be, would have smirked and bragged about landing the hit before lecturing Cross on keeping his guard up during a spar. They could both hear echoes of the destroyer's words now, even.

_"If you get hurt, you don't stop to tell the enemy. You fight, and you keep fighting until you're finally able to lick your wounds... or until you're dead. And believe it or not... I don't want you dead, Rookie, so shape up and come at me again."_

Cross dropped his hand, changed his hold on his sword again, and stepped forward.

Error crumpled to the floor right as he did, sobbing. "I... I'm s...s-so ti... t-tired... _I'm s-so fuck... f-fucking t-tired..."_

For a moment, Cross thought it was a ploy. Error could be incredibly convincing if he wanted to. But this? 

It was too similar to when Nightmare- 

"So....s-so....so ti-tired, Cros...Cross...!" He practically clawed at his skull, his entire body trembling hard with the failed effort to stay still. 

"...Shit..." _Fucking same..._ Cross dematerialized his sword and stepped closer. He hesitated for a moment. _He still can't handle touch..._ And sometimes his coat would help, but... what if it wouldn't this time...? He took another step forward and undid his scarf. "I'm going to drape this over you, if you're okay with that." When he didn't receive a denial, Cross knelt and set the fabric across his shoulders. 

Error reached up and gripped it tightly, bringing both ends around to hide his face. More shaky sobs shuddered through him. 

"I'll sit just right here, Error," Cross murmured. "When you're ready."

Like a puppet with no strings, Error slumped forward and muffled his wails in the soft material of Cross' scarf. The sound didn't travel far, but it was heartbreaking all the same.

Cross looked on in sadness. _Error..._

He didn't dare move, lest he interrupt the other skeleton's tears. For all the pain listening to Error sob left him with, he knew that letting everything play out on it's own was the best thing for the destroyer at the moment. If Error didn't cry now, then he might not to do at all. Instead, he would bury the tears and leave it to fester until shadow and time warped it into rage, and Cross... Well, he knew how ugly that kind of anger could be.

_The moment they stepped into a poor, unsuspecting AU, Error charged forward with a shout. When he tore through his first victim and when those within the world began to scream, the destroyer screamed back; louder and angrier as he dragged them back from their retreats. When the screaming of innocent monsters stopped, Error's did as well... and yet, Cross could see that, that wasn't quite true._

_Error's screaming might have not been a vocal thing, but he swore that he could see the turmoil that was put into the sound within the destroyer's eyes. Inside, Error was still screaming._

_Cross wondered what his reasons were._

Sometimes, Cross wish he didn't know the reasons Error had for that terrible sound.

But the sound now... it was a cry that could've lead to those screams. _Did... did Nightmare...?!_ Cross grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain silent. To wait out Error's break-down until he was ready to talk. 

And boy did it take a long time... 

But Cross was <strike>loving</strike> patient. He dropped his gaze to fiddle with the form of a small knife as Error slowly quieted down. 

"S....sorry...." the destroyer finally whispered. 

"Don't be, Teach. You're not a burden." 

_Then why do I feel like one...? Like a possession or toy? Something to be used over and over and over, just to be discarded for something shiny and-?_ "H-heh..." Error chuckled. _That's because that's exactly what happened, isn't it...?_ Again, he dropped his face into the scarf and trembled.

What was he, exactly? A comparison for Nightmare to look to in order to make sure that his brother fit into his prior role in all the right ways? Was he that old, tossed away plaything, or apart of a set? He just didn't know. Error didn't know _anything_ anymore, and he was tired of being left in the dark.

He was so, so tired...

Face hidden, he shut his eyes and took what little comfort he could drag forth from the scarf hiding him from the world. If only the scarf could hide him from everything else as well... "Cr...Cross...?"

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat to shake the question free. "D-do... do y-you th... t-think it hurt? When... w-when Ni...N-Night... When _he_ forced Geno to...?" Error stopped there, unable to finish off with the last two words.

Hidden as he was, Error couldn't see the other second's expression. For a moment or two, he couldn't even hear Cross breathe as the skeleton went as silent as the dead.

Then, hesitantly... "Teach," Cross began softly, "I..." Again, he fell into silence. "...No, it doesn't- I mean, I don't think it... hurt." Nightmare liked it better when his little games ruined you mentally. And unwanted pleasure in place of pain? That... "...Did... did it hurt for... you?"

More tears dripped onto the fabric hiding his face. "It... i-it only hurt if he... i-if he wanted it to. If I _really_ made... m-made him angry, or if he just... w-wanted me to suffer. M-most of the time, it didn't hurt." He tried not to recall any memories, but a few inevitably drifted to the forefront of his mind. "I... I always hated those times the mo... most. It f-felt wrong. I d-didn't... didn't want it, but I _liked_ i-it... and h-he never let me live it down."

And now, all the mocking Nightmare used to do could be aimed at his brother. The very same brother Error promised himself he would protect.

_What a lousy fucking job I did..._ "I... I shouldn't have ever... ever l-left..." If he did, none of this would have ever happened. Laughing weakly, Error pulled himself together just enough to meet Cross' eyes. "All I h-had to do was suck it up, and sometimes suck _him_ off." An act he hated, but that some part of him apparently still yearned to perform. "I was a-allowed out, and my family was safe. _I should have just stayed."_

Cross... wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Confirm? Deny? He had no proof for either. He searched his mind for something better or comforting. But all he could think about was the baby Error and Ink had. How old would that make the kid now? Five-? 

"H-he's six..." Error whispered. 

The guard's gaze snapped up to Error, surprise written a little too clearly on his face, though Error didn't look for too long. He clung to the scarf, trying to find more interesting patterns in the dirt, even as he spiraled more. _Did Nightmare hurt Cross? Would he have hurt PJ? If we didn't marry Geno and Reaper, would it just be Ink being tortured...?_

Unwanted though not unpleasant memories of Ink on pink paint surfaced, being twisted to Nightmare forcing that paint into Error's husband. Or maybe even Error- 

_"Error!"_ Cross snapped. "You've gotta breathe with me, Teach. Look at-" 

"I can't fu-fucking-" _Focus, breathe, **live,** stars, did he even deserve-?_

The swirling voices and images in Error's mind were interrupted by Cross moving closer, "Error," he murmured desperately, "You deserve to live. But you need to _survive_ this place again. You need to help _them_ survive." _I need to get you out...!_

Out of everything said, it was the last portion of Cross' plea that Error found himself clinging to. The castle was his own personal hell and Error had never once wished it upon others. Not enemies, nor allies, and especially not on his family. It wasn't fair that they had to suffer Nightmare's interest. Ink may have been forced into wearing a collar, but the part of a pet was only ever meant to be _Error's_ to play.

Breathing rapidly, he raised a trembling hand and traced the back of his neck with itching, twitching fingers. Instinctively, he shuddered at his own touch, then shook again when he felt a cool chain. _He... he put something on me earlier..._ A necklace that he was quick to tuck into his shirt, well aware that removing it wasn't an option.

"I... I need to get them out..." he whispered, hand falling to toy with the grass beneath him. _And if that means staying in their place, then so be it._ Only... "A-and... I w-want you out too, t-this time."

Something warmed within Cross. It warmed fast enough that Cross had to bite back the smile that wanted to explode across his face. "E-Error..." he murmured. 

"I'm serious," Error stared back, very clearly not planning to budge. Though his jaw stayed set, his hands still twitched against the grass until strings leaked from his sockets. 

Even softer, Cross said, "Teach, it's important to get the four of you out. You should worry about your husbands, not me, alright?" Though he knew better. Error was going to worry about whatever he wanted to worry about, regardless what Cross said or thought. 

He was proven right when Error huffed and dropped his gaze. Giving up the fight _that_ easy? Yeah, right.

"Worry about my husbands, huh...?" Error mused. Eyes still lowered, he focused on collecting the lengthening thread piling on his lap. It was... honesty a little depressing to watch him coil the string into such a thick spool so quickly. "If anything, they should be worried about _m-me."_

A little confused, Cross cocked his head to the side while pondering that little statement. Taking his past with Nightmare into consideration, there were many, many reasons to worry over Error, so his statement wasn't necessarily an incorrect one. The way he phrased his words though... 

_He's making it sound like **he's** the threat to his family._

And that was just... wrong. Even the thickest rose colored lenses couldn't blind Cross to all the horror Error was responsible for in the past. Theft, arson... _murder..._ People could grow, but being a better person like Error now was didn't erase an entire history of terrible behavior, and Error... well, not all of his actions were the the result of orders.

But Error being a danger to his family? Feeling the need to suggest they ought to be wary of him? That was... stupid. For all that Error was capable of violence, he was able to love, too. He _did_ love, and that affection was centered around his family; a family that Error cared for so deeply that he wasn't able to bare the thought of leaving a single member behind... even if it meant resigning himself to reliving the hell he once escaped.

So why would Error think himself a risk to his loved ones? "Error, what... what exactly did _he_ do to you? What did he say?" Nightmare had to be responsible for this... right?

The taste of foreign magic in his mouth left Error feeling ill. "Nothing." And that wasn't a lie, either. Nightmare didn't make the first move. Nightmare didn't drag him kicking and screaming into that bed. It was all him.

Cross narrowed his eyes more. _They... didn't sound like lies, but they also didn't ring like truths, either._ "Error-" 

_"Nothing_ C-Cross..." he whispered, claws digging into the ball of string. "Nothing." 

_That's... that's definitely a lie._ But if he didn't want to say something, there was no forcing it. And it was years of experience that taught Cross that, like many other things. So he sat back and waited for Error to say something a little more truthful. Hopefully it wouldn't be something as heartbreaking as _'Nothing'._

Error seemed fine with the silence between them for the first few minutes. Sitting quietly, he fiddled with his collection of thread before ultimately disconnecting the bundle from the tears still falling from his sockets in order to tie the mass off for now. After a few more moments of silence, he undid his simple knot and began weaving the thread between shaking fingers. More silence, more fiddling, and then a sigh. 

"Every time something happened, I would think to myself, 'I should have known.' Every. Time." The string in his eyes was making a mess, so Error stopped his playing, rewrapped the first bundle of string, and began forming a second makeshift spool of thread. "When Nightmare first showed his stupid, ugly face at my _house;_ when he went after my brother after fucking with me; when Geno went missing, and you showed up..." Discreetly, Cross curled his hands into fist and dug his fingertips into his palms. "...I knew that I should have known better than to think that it would all just... end. That, with time, Nightmare would fuck off and things would get better."

"And now?" Cross pushed, though he tried to be gentle. 

With a rough yank, Error disconnected his second spool from his eyes. "Now? Now I'm trying to figure out why I was so fucking stupid. Nightmare giving up his things? His precious, obedient _whore?_ Like I said: I should have known. I should have known he'd never let me go, and that he would fuck over the people I cared about for ever fucking thinking it was okay to leave." Angrily, he tugged at the thread still connected to his sockets to pull the threads out faster. "Most of all, I should have known better than to think I got rid of my... my sick fucking obsession for him...!"

"Error, you-"

"Just tried to climb on his dick," he spat. His eyes were starting to sting due to his rough treatment of his magic, but Error kept frantically pulling. If he got all his tears out, then maybe the heaviness in his chest would finally leave. "But that's no real surprise, is it? All those years of... of _f-fucking bullshit_ but I'd still go back for more. No matter what he did or how fucked up it left me, I'd always be back on his dick the next night, begging for more like a good." Yank. "Little." _Yank._ "Slut!" _**Yank-**_

With a cry of pain, Error reeled back from his own hands, rapidly blinking to clear the steady flow of magic from his right socket. The left ached, but the right...

Slowly, he reached up and cringed when his fingers came back tinted with marrow. _Shit, I haven't fucked up my eye like this in..._ Well, a lifetime. He knew from experience that it wasn't anything that wouldn't heal, but pulling threads was going to be a bitch until the sore magic got a chance to settle. "Fuck."

Cross watched him with narrowed eyes before asking, "Are you done?" 

The aching left light flicked up to Cross. "Done...?" 

"With beating yourself up? With calling yourself names? With being an _asshole_ to yourself, you idiot?" 

Blink blink. "Did.... did you just-" 

"Yes, Teach, I called you an idiot. A... a _big_ idiot! You..." Cross clenched his fists and crossed his arms tightly, staring firmly at Error. "You're an idiot for trying to beat yourself up over stuff like this." _It isn't you. It hasn't been you in a while..._ "You're not a w-whore. Or a slut. OR a sex w-worker. You're Error-" 

"All of the above. And the Destroyer." 

"No- Just-" Cross grit his teeth and took a slow breath before meeting Error's eyes again. "You're a father. You're a husband. You're a good man with a bad past."

"A father? A _husband?"_ Error's laugh was a nasty, bitter thing that left Cross with an ache in his jaw simply from gritting his teeth so hard. He knew that laugh, and he _hated_ it. It was the same one his fellow second made whenever something within him broke. Really, all that laugh was, was a sound to keep Error from crying. "Yeah, you're right, I am those things, Cross. That just makes it worse though, doesn't it? I _am_ a father, and I _am_ a fucking husband, but none of that was enough to keep me from letting Nightmare stick his fucking tongue down my throat!"

It didn't escape Cross' notice that Error dodged the agreement about being a good person. "You were put in a position where you were alone with someone who abused you for _years_, Error. It... it sucks, okay? But you were... _trained._ You probably-"

"Don't," Error interrupted. "Don't... d-don't make fucking excuses for me, Cross. _I_ kissed Nightmare first, and I didn't even try to pull away when he returned the favor. I didn't run when he lead me to his fucking bed, and I didn't scream when he pressed his dick against me. You want to know what I did do? I kissed back, and moaned, and begged for more while practically trying to ride him even with our clothes on. I _cheated,_ Cross. On Ink, on Reaper. How the hell does that make me a good man?"

"Then what are you going to do? Do you really think you _wanted_ to kiss him? To get that close to him? To _let_ him do anything to you?" 

"No, but I-" 

"Stop," Cross snapped. "And actually _think_ about what happened. Alright? Did you _willingly_ cheat?" 

Error stared at him, narrowing his eyes slightly again. "Willing...?" 

"Do you think your _husbands_ would think you cheated, willingly or not?" 

"Of course they-" 

_"Are you sure?!"_ Cross pressed. 

_What...? What, I... but I **did** cheat... I... would they think this...? Of course they would, wouldn't they...?_

Seeing his internal struggle reflected on his face, Cross sighed and softened his approach. Getting frustrated wouldn't help matters. Not when it came to Error, and especially not with the current situation. 

Trying to be mindful of the way he presented himself, Cross took a moment to simply breathe before turning to Error with the upmost certainty in his eyes. "You didn't cheat on your husbands, Error." _Or Dream,_ he added mentally, knowing that the golden eyed skeleton's name was a taboo within the castle. 

"It feels like I did," Error whispered. His neck stung from the hickey Nightmare bit into the bone and his shorts felt cold where the desire that seeped into the material was left to cool. And the taste in his mouth... "I wanted it, Cross. I begged for it like a dog in fucking heat."

"Did you?"

Error felt frustration well in his sockets. "Are you fucking listening to me?! I said-"

"How did you feel about the situation before you kissed him, Error? What about after? You're telling me what you wanted to do with Nightmare, but you're not telling you slept with him, or that you went into that meeting wanting too. And you sure as hell didn't come running out of that room looking like you had fun, so what gives? Look through everything that happened, _everything,_ and then tell me again: Did you _want_ to cheat on your husbands? Or is what took place an outlier?"

"I... no. I don't want- not with-" He sighed and dropped his gaze. "No." _It's that simple._

Cross nodded slowly and rose to his feet. "If you're still... uncertain? Or worried? Have a conversation with your husbands. I only know what I've heard and seen, but I know they're good for you, Error. I know they love you. And I know, here, that love is a weakness, but it's made you strong. It's made you _happy."_

_And that's something that can be used against Nightmare,_ went unsaid but understood between the two. 

None of the memories they had of Nightmare being attacked by positive feelings went well... especially if it was an AU fighting back... 

Before either of them could sink into memories, Error was shaking his head. "No... no I can't tell them." 

"Can't? Or don't want to?" Even softer, Cross asked, "Or would you rather someone else mentioned it first?" 

"No, _no,_ I don't want it mentioned at all. Ever!" 

"You won't get that choice Teach. Unless you made that choice now."

Error bit back a pitiful noise. _Either I tell them what happened myself, or Nightmare does._ If it ended up being the latter... well, Error knew how that would go down. 

At best, Nightmare would pick the worst opportunity to mention his shameful behavior. At worse, he would make a move or coax Error into begging for it right in front of his husbands. Whichever way it went down, Error would be left humiliated and horrified. Guilty too. _If I tell them myself though..._

He'd still be all those things, but at least hearing the betrayal from his own mouth would soften the blow his husbands would have to suffer. "...Where do I even begin?" he questioned miserably.

"Just... start from the moment you walked in, Teach."

"Yeah, sure..." Already feeling drained, Error pressed a palm into his burning socket and sighed. He had a headache, because of course he did. There was always room for him to suffer more. "Reaps, Ink, I walked in, sat down for a chat, then tried to screw the man who raped not just me, but _Geno._ Don't worry though, _Nightmare_ was the better person and stopped before I could drop my pants. Sorry!"

Cross scowled darkly, the expression such a dramatic change from his usually placid and neatly bored expression. "You should probably try to word that differently," he grumbled dryly. 

"....I tried to have sex wit-" 

"No." 

"I... Cross, I don't know...!" 

Softening his voice again, Cross said, "Teach." 

Error sighed, leaning back against the grass. He took several minutes to collect his thoughts. Minutes that Cross was glad to lend him, if it meant more time away from Nightmare... "I walked in to deliver the report for Ink's... mission. He told me he didn't care, and that I should know better. I warned him that I was onto him, and that I didn't want sex and then..." Error frowned, headache spiking sharply. His... thoughts seemed- 

"Fuzzy?" 

Mismatched eyes met Cross' white lights. "How...?" 

That nearly-bored expression was back, and Cross murmured, "Continue." 

"Well... next thing I remember for sure was him over me and need and fear in my bones, then I was out here with you." 

"Tell _that_ to them." 

Embarrassment flared across Error's face. "That I was fucking _hot_ for our-" 

"That you reacted to simulation in a predictable manner, especially with the trauma you've experienced before? Yes."

"Cross, it's not that fucking simple! I... even if i-it wasn't what I wanted, I can't just tell my fucking husbands that I ended up horny under Nightmare!"

"Why?"

"Because-" Error faltered. 

"Because you're embarrassed?" Cross filled in yet again. As he did so, his voice remained soft, but there was a... a sense of emptiness to it. The other skeleton spoke with inflection to keep himself from coming across as monotone, yet it didn't hit every mark. Whatever emotion Cross was hiding from his expression was also being kept from his voice. "Because talking about it makes it more real? Brings back all the shame and fear and disgust?"

Error dropped his gaze. "..."

"Teach, we both know that keeping it to ourselves doesn't make all those feelings go away. If anything, it makes them worse."

"I... I _know_ that I just-" Error growled and ripped at the blades of grass near him. "I... don't want them disappointed in me." 

"..." Cross dropped his gaze and fiddled with a bit of his scarf. "Teach," he murmured slowly. "Which worst case scenario would you prefer? The bad feelings from your husbands because _you_ said something? Or because _Nightmare_ said something?" 

Error looked over at him. His bones still burned and his fingers twitched though they had calmed down somewhat. He couldn't see Cross too well through his splitting headache and the one eye light he was letting out, but something about his comrade's... on point words bothered Error. This wasn't the same Rookie he left years ago. He wasn't sure the Rookie from that long ago would've been as calm as he was now. The Destroyer nearly smacked himself in the forehead. _Of course Cross wasn't the same. But I'm so blinded and focused on my own problems and my husbands that I..._ "Cross, is everything okay?" 

A blink. "What do you mean?" 

"With you, you dork. Are you-?" 

He tilted his head and squinted slightly. "Are you trying to deflect to give yourself more time, Error?"

Unfortunately, Error's response seemed like a deflection. "Are _you_ accusing me of deflecting the question just so that _you_ can deflect the one I asked?"

"No." _Yes._

For a moment, the two simply sat and squinted at each other, suspicious. It was perhaps a little silly, but neither of them were laughing. Neither felt like the situation deserved much humor. "Cross."

Nothing was given away by Cross' expression, or voice. "Look, Teach... we can sit here and go in as many circles as want, but all that's going to do is waste time. I know you rather sweep things under the rug and pretend like this whole mess isn't there and all, but you can't. Secrets don't stay hidden in these walls. And this one? If left to fester, it'll turn into something nasty."

Every single "Yeah, but-" that Error could think of would inevitably lead to Cross rewording his same point. _Just tell them._ "If we get out," Error began lowly, "You're going to tell me everything." 

_"When_ you all get out," Cross corrected, "I'll be happy to." 

_He didn't include himself... he doesn't believe me._ "Cr-" 

"Are you okay to see them now, Teach? You need to rest that eye, if you can, too."

"Will you stop worrying about me for just a damn second?!"

"No."

The argument Error was gearing up for died out just like that. "What?"

Again, there was nothing of value to pick out from Cross' neutral expression. "Every _millisecond_ you spend within the castle puts you at risk, Teach. Until you're out, I'll worry." _How could I not?_

"O-oh..." _...oh...... oh Rookie...._ Error couldn't help but continue studying Cross's expression. And somehow, the guard found it within himself to not look away. In the end, it was Error who broke eye contact by standing with his spools of strings. "...I'll talk to them." 

Cross nodded, murmuring agreement. He stood slowly, keeping his mentor in view. The marrow on his knuckles had long since dried, though the new movement opened the cuts up once again. The pain was easy to ignore when Cross' attention was solely on the internal battle Error still seemed to be experiencing. 

They began to walk back to the castle in silence. Once within the halls again, Error seemed to shut everything out. The Destroyer, back in his expected role. Still silent, Cross followed. Should any of the others be observant to their walk, they would've easily mistaken this as a time before the Destroyer experienced such a soft thing as family or love. The thought cracked a piece of Cross' SOUL, though he wouldn't dare let that show. There was no reason to. 

It wasn't until they saw The Door that Error slowed down and his expression wavered.

After a quick glance down to Error's hands, Cross stepped up to the other second and brushed his shoulder against the destroyer's. "Go on, Teach. They're waiting for you."

Rather than flinch from the brief touch, Error leaned into it and actively sought the warmth of Cross' form for comfort. It wasn't a hug, but it was as close as he dared to get when his fingers still twitched every few seconds with the desire to claw. "I... I can't do this. _I can't fucking do this."_

"You can," Cross murmured.

"I _can't."_

"Teach..." Slow enough for Error to track, Cross turned to face him and let his hands drop onto the distraught skeleton's shoulders. "Your husbands love you, Error." _I... I..._ Swallowing down rising emotion, Cross smiled. "They know you're loyal, okay? Not just that, but they also know that when you care for someone, you do so with your entire heart... even if you deny having one. You'd sooner face your end than cause them harm... _and they know that._ Anyone who claims to love you can see that you're not one to betray those you claim as your own. It's going to be hard, and scary, _but you can do this, okay?"_

Magic began building in Error's left socket. "Cr...Cross..." 

"They're waiting for you, Teach." Gently, Cross pinched a thread and snapped it. Before anymore of Error's tears could fall, he wiped them away. "Now go on." 

_Can... can you come with me?_ The words were on the tip of Error's tongue. In the end, he simply kept quiet and nodded. 

Then, with nervous determination, he turned and marched into the mockery of a house. 

Cross' smile dropped the instant the door shut. _Nightmare..._

_Nightmare's tendrils cupped Cross' chin, tilting his head upwards towards the now smiling king. Despite the desire to not... conduct business there, he seemed to be... formulating something in his mind. "I could be convinced to let my precious Error stay wherever he ran off to if I had a suitable replacement...." smiling wider, Nightmare murmured, "Ah. How about... I make you my new Second. Follow my every command. My every will and whim. Oh, but you don't appear to be interested in warming my bed..." pretending to consider for a moment longer, Nightmare smirked, "You have five years. Condemn another to take Error's place, or see him back here. Understand?"_

For years, he foolishly thought his near perfect obedience would be enough to distract the king of the castle from Error. If Nightmare ordered him to kill, he killed. If he was expected to lie, and cheat others, and steal, then he'd do so without comment. If Nightmare... Well, _anything_ the king desired of him, he provided. As second, it was expected of him. It just... wasn't enough. 

_Cross_ wasn't enough, and that was yet another failure tallied on an ever growing list. Error, Geno, Error again... he couldn't keep them safe. He couldn't keep _anyone_ safe. 

_ "You have five years. Condemn another to take Error's place, or see him back here. Understand?"_

_Maybe, if he offered rather than simply obeyed, he would finally be enough._

_And Error would be safe from at least one terror._


	40. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Error comes clean

Error tried to pull himself together enough to find his husbands. He could hear them in the kitchen, making some food probably. But his nerves were starting to act up again.

If anything, Ink was most likely well aware of his return. The fact that he had yet to run to him spoke volumes about the idiot's condition... or simply his love for Error. _Maybe he's... giving me time?_ For all his idiocy, the artist turned empath was good at knowing when to give him space.

_I could just... go upstairs._ Avoiding his husbands would increase whatever worrying they were doing, but showering was a good enough excuse, right? He could turn on the water and hide upstairs and...

Stars, he was pretty pathetic, wasn't he? Rather than confront his husbands about his cheating, he wanted to run away and hide. And for what reasons? Embarrassment, guilt... _I don't want them to push me away because of what I did._ Was that really it, or was he just trying to push _them_ away before they could hurt him first?

Gritting his teeth, Error clenched his sockets shut and balled up his hands. _Fuck it._ "I... I'm b-back...!"

Ink popped his head out first, expression torn between nervousness and excitement. "Ru...! Did... how was...? U-um... welcome back hon!" He moved closer but hesitated, seeing Error's twitching fingers. "Are you okay? Is- Reaps and I were making up some more sandwiches, would you like some?"

_...Why the hell is he so nervous...?_ Error wrung his fingers together, arm bumping the bundles of yarn he had spooled together earlier. Sweat was starting to collect in his palms and his skull was feeling more fuzzy and hurting more than earlier.

"Ru...? Ru do you want me to take away some of the pain there....?"

"No. No I'm f-fine, Ink."

Ink stood just in front of him, wavering uncertainly between helping relieve the pain and respecting his husband's wishes. _Something's wrong something's wrong something's wrong...!_ He put on a smile, though shaky, and offered his hands, "Well, I'm here for you, okay?"

Error hesitated, then reached out and laced their phalanges together. "O... okay..." _Tell him, tell him, tell him!_ "Inky, I..." Swallowing nervously, he raised his gaze to Ink's. "I-"

The empath's sockets went dark.

"S-shit, Ink-"

"Error..." Ink began slowly, voice as void of emotion as his eyes were light. "What happened to your eye?"

_Fuck, I... I forgot-_ Dropping one of Ink's hands, the destroyer prodded at the corner of his still stinging socket. With everything going on in his head, the pain just... faded into the background for a bit. "T-this wasn't- I... I did i-it myself by... b-by accident."

_Truth..._

Ink blinked a few times until his lights came back. "Ru..." he took one more step closer, making sure to move slow as he covered Error's free hand with his own. "Ru, hon, please tell me what happened...?"

Every time he closed his mouth after a sentence, the taste of magic left on his tongues mocked him. With it, the slow drying slickness between his thighs as well as the stinging mark on his neck drove him to the edge of insanity.

_I cheated, I cheated, I cheated and I'm disgusting for it._ He blinked and found his vision crowded. Messages warning of a crash, tears, specks of black... there was too much going on for him to see. "I... I-Ink...y..." he choked out, swallowing and shuddering at that taste. _That fucking taste...!_

If he kissed Ink, would the artist know? Stars, did he _already_ know? Could Ink see the staining on his shorts, or smell Nightmare on him? Oh gods, did... _did he feel it?!_

Panicking slightly, Error tore his hands away from Ink and stumbled back. Space. He... he needed space. "I'm... I...Ink... I'm s-sor... sorry...! I'm s-sorry!" _I cheated, I cheated, I cheated._

Ink quickly took a step back and showed his hands. "Okay... it's okay, Ru, take your time hon..." _What did he do what did he do what did he do to you, Error...?!_

Reaper peeked from the kitchen, having heard them but not seen either of them come in, though the moment his lights rested on Error's crowded sockets. He glanced to Ink and decided to step back into the kitchen. Give them space...

Breathing heavily, Error blindly reached behind him and felt around as he stumbled back until he caught the soft material of the armchair. Just in time too, because his shaking legs gave out the moment he began lowering himself onto the plush seat. "I... I..."

Without his control, Error's body seized before locking up entirely. Sockets wide and expression blank, he sat stiffly and unaware with the only visible movement to suggest his life being the erratic spazzing of his glitches and the wild twitching of his fingers.

"E-Error!"

_Oh gods, oh gods, gods **gods**, Error...!_ Ink froze in front of the chair, head buzzing with the crash Error was experiencing.

There wasn't anything they could do. So Ink waited. Standing there, sitting on the couch, pacing between him and the kitchen.

It took _so long_ for Error to come out that, by the time he did, Reaper was holding a shivering Ink on the couch and there was a full plate of food untouched on the coffee table. Ink perked up slightly when he sensed the buzzing fade. "Ru...?" He whispered hoarsely, looking over to him.

Immediately, tears began to drip from Error's socket. "Ssso... s-sorry..." he slurred, blinking sluggishly to clear his blurred vision. "I... I'm... sor... ry..."

Reaper and Ink shared a worried look. "Error," Reaper murmured, "You... you aren't making a whole lot of sense, sweetheart. What are you sorry for?"

H-heh... Error could _still_ taste that disgusting fucking magic. It made him sick, but he swallowed down the rising bile with a determination pieced together from fear. _Either I tell them, or Nightmare does._ Cross wasn't wrong about that.

"Ru?" Ink pressed, eyes flashing through various shades of color.

_Fear, concern, **love**..._ Ashamed, Error closed his eyes to hide from the evidence of Ink's affections for him. _I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it, I... I..._

"I c-cheated," he sobbed.

"Cheated...?" Reaper blinked.

Ink moved closer, wanting to hold Error, to shake him, to _something_, but surprise had even his shivering ending. "What...? I don't understand, Ru, what happened hon...? From the beginning...?"

Error curled in on himself, gripping his head. _What...? What? How is... how is he-?_

_I... I'm not out of the woods,_ Error clenched his jaw shut.

"Hey..." Ink cooed gently, "Ru... Ru.... you can tell us. Please... please talk to us..."

_You can tell us, talk to us, from the beginning..._ Feeling a whine building in his throat, Error curled up tighter and muffled the noise in his knees alongside his next sob. "I...I..." his tongues felt heavy in his mouth. Numb, almost. Distantly, Error wondered if Nightmare bit him without his notice. "I..."

Reaper slowly drifted closer until he stood just behind Ink. "Take your time, honey. Just... go at your own pace. Breath, try to relax..." Helpfully, he offered, "Do you want some water, Ru?"

Water... water would get that taste out of his mouth. "Ye... yes...."

Before he knew it, there was a cool glass in his hands. Either Reaper had that prepared, or Error lost a few minutes of time to panic. Both were equally likely.

"Better?" Reaper crooned.

Ink's shoulders relaxed when Error jerkily nodded. "Can you... try to start now, hon?"

_From the beginning._ From the beginning... So, choppily, Error recounted what he had told Cross.

"Ink's mission report... He didn't care.... a-and I.... I should've known. A-and I... I didn't want... b-but..." He shuddered and dropped his gaze. "M-my head h-hurts...."

Gently, Ink asked, "What did he do...?" _What did he make you do? Where did he touch you? Where did he **hurt** you...?!_

The ache increased, causing Ink's gentle tone to hit him with all the strength of a high, screeching scream. Unable to prevent his whimper from escaping, Error shrunk back and gripped his head. "N-not... not _him._ M-me."

"Error," Ink whispered softly. "Please, hon, I... I know it's hard, but can you clarify? Please?"

_Surging forward to connect their mouths, willingly being pulled into a second kiss, moaning on his back with Nightmare between his legs, ready to toss off his shorts and be taken..._ "I... I ch... _c-cheated....!_ Tried to- with... w-with Night...m-mare..."

"It's okay."

The three of them blinked and exchanged glances. "Y-you... you both-?" Error whispered.

Ink nodded. "Yeah, Ru. We trust you."

"T-t-to-?"

Shaking his head, Reaper jumped in, "No, we trust you and your decisions. Honestly, I don't believe for a second that you'd willingly cheat on us with the person who abused you for decades."

"There's gotta be something else going on," Ink agreed.

Miserably, Error breathed, "If there isn't...?"

"Then the four of us will talk about it once we're..."

_Out. Free. **Home.**_

That seemed so far from a dream though...

Honestly, all of this felt like a dream though. His own idiocy in going after Nightmare, Reaper and Ink's easy forgiveness and understanding...

Error's socket burned in an attempt to produce more tears. "Y-you...?" _Really forgive me? Aren't disgusted?_ It seemed so, but... why? "I... w-with _Nigh... Nightmare...!"_

"Hon," Reaper crooned, "Neither Ink or I are upset with you, okay?"

That... that still didn't make sense though. Why? _Why weren't they upset?_ Error actively cheated, even if he was the only person who seemed to believe it, he still got into bed with Nightmare. They should-

_A possessive hand around his neck, bitemarks on his thighs, tendril shaped bruises coiled all across his form... claim after claim after claim bitten, sucked, scratched, and forced onto Error again and again and again._

_"I'm never letting you go, lover," Nightmare vowed, breath hot against the side of his skull. "You're more valuable than you realize, and for that... you're **mine. **It's been your fate since the moment that gaze landed on you."_

Ink shook his head. "Ru... we're not in a good situation here. Whether you did or didn't try to cheat, all I see is this as a potential opportunity to tear us apart. And right now? Sorry, but I don't care if you did or didn't. I know you as my husband, and I know you love us, and I _know_ you wouldn't think to actively cheat on us. I think... something's wrong, and you were hurt. Honey, I want to help you, if you want me to?"

_If I want him to...?_ Did he? Ink was still feeling the aftereffects of nearly _dying,_ so whatever aid he wanted to offer could be dangerous. Deadly, if not careful.

"I'll be careful, Error."

Would he? Careful wasn't a word he'd choose when it came to describing Ink. Gentle? Yes, but _careful,_ at least when it came to his own health? No. Not at all.

Error was a selfish man though. He... he didn't like feeling like this. Maybe he would look back on his decisions later and regret them, but later wasn't _now_ and right now? He wanted his husband to make it better.

With that in mind, he shakily reached a trembling, twitching hand out to In-

_ **NO!** _

Jerking back, Error whined and clamped his hands down on his aching head.

Ink startled, freezing where he was to watch his husband. "Error...? Ru, sweetie is everything okay?"

Reaper offered his own hand towards Error. "Error everything's okay. We can... we don't have to talk about anything else if you want. We can just hang out with Geno and... and-"

"Wait...?" he asked hoarsely. "Wait for... what. Our next _mission?"_

"What else are we supposed to do?" the god questioned softly. "We don't have a lot of options available to us, dear."

That was... that was true. And yet...

Error's currently single eyelight flickered in Ink's direction. The ache was still there, but it wasn't bad enough to keep him from blearily watching his squid's expressions. I...

Ink met his stare with a soft, supportive smile. "Where we go from here is your choice."

Again, Error reached out to the artist. Not with the intention of begging for help, but simply out of the desire to be closer to the empath. "I... Inky..." he croaked, too tired from his long day to care how childish he sounded. Reaper reached out to help him to their taller husband, but Error didn't release his hand even once in Ink's arms. "Re... R-Reaps..."

Both taller husbands moved closer to each other with Ink snuggling into Error, so thankful to have his first back in his arms. Tired himself, the artist leaned into the god's arm, murmuring, "We should go upstairs..."

Error clung to the both of them. "..."

Reaper smiled a little and stood with Ink, watching the artist carefully lift the Destroyer into his arms. It was slow, but they made their way up the stairs and into their room where Geno was napping, somehow still so tired even after his forceful rest.

_That could've been me,_ Error thought.

_That **should** have been me..._

"Hnnn...." Ink whined slightly, holding Error that much closer.

Reaper pressed a kiss to Error's head before detaching himself with an apologetic whisper. Keeping a bit of focus on the two, he walked to the bed and fussed over the glitch in bed. "He's still good," he murmured, scooping Geno into his arms, feeling relief when the short skeleton shifted with a groan. _Not stuck in his head, just tired._

"Re...?" Geno slurred.

Reaper pressed a gentle kiss to his head, murmuring, "We're just joining you, Gen. You can go back to sleep."

"Hmm..." Nodding, the glitch closed his eye, breaths evening out once again. Seeing him sleep was still unnerving, but it wouldn't be fair to let their concern interfere with Geno's needs.

Smiling slightly, Ink carried his own first to the bed. Reaper appeared to be waiting for him and Error to get comfortable, so he quickly got himself situated under the covers with Error lounging on him more than the actual mattress. Moments later, Reaper joined them with Geno positioned much the same as the destroyer.

To both Ink and Reaper's surprise, Error shifted until he was able to latch onto his brother. "Ru? Honey?"

Error shook his head and hid his face in Geno's neck, earning himself a sleepy mumble. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should have protected you better. I should have kept my promises and kept you away._

Seeing and feeling the guilt didn't really lend itself to Ink figuring out a way to help. If anything, the empath wasn't entirely sure where to go or what to do.

Reaper intertwined his fingers with Ink's and leaned closer to them, the day dragging him down to that of a somewhat sleepy individual. "We should try to rest."

"We can shower in the morning," Ink added, hoping that it would help.

Unfortunately for them, Error remembered that spot in his shorts. Though long dried and likely not noticeable unless he were to point it out, it suddenly seemed too obvious to have not changed out of. A battle rose: get up and change or stay and enjoy his husbands' warmth.

Well, it wasn't much of a battle. They were lucky to get this time together, weren't they? _Why... why was Nightmare allowing them to stay together? Truly, **why**....? He's got to be planning something, right?_

But the even breathing of his brother and Reaper, followed by the soft, near whistle-like breathing of his first husband lulled Error to abandon his suspicions and pains, if only for the night.


	41. Storytime!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this _almost_ seems like a Sanders Sides fic! But it _Simply_ isn't. :3

Reaper was the first to awaken in the morning, much to his chagrin. With a quiet noise of complaint, he loosened his hold on the warm form he was curled around and sleepily blinked open his eyes. _Ink, huh...?_

Biting back a yawn, he lightly pressed his head to the artist's head and sat up as quickly as he dared to with tw- _three_ skeletons to possibly disturb. _Error is still hogging Geno_, but both were safe. Good. _What time is...? Aw, shit._ He was awake _two hours_ before their alarm was meant to go off. _Sleeping so early wasn't that good an idea, was it?_

Well, there was nothing else to do about his wakefulness than submit to it. _Breakfast, maybe...?_ They slept through dinner, it seemed. Oh, and they never put away the sandwiches... Maybe they were still good?

Carefully easing out of bed, the god made sure his husbands were all still accounted for and comfortable for drifting out of his room in a hunt for those sandwiches. _Downstairs..._ he didn't bother turning on the lights as he made his way down the stairs. Geno proved to have a few difficulties with walking the other day and even if that hadn't been the case, Error was latching onto him pretty tightly. There would be no way for Geno see the darkness of the hallway and get fright-

"Well now, you're up early."

_...No..._

_No...._

_No, come on....!_

_ **COME ON!** _

The fragile safety of their fake home shattered before the god as his light-less sockets settled uncomfortably upon Nightmare. "..."

"Ah, you're not so talkative this morning, are you, little bird?" He smiled, lounging a little too comfortably in the spot Error broke down on last night. "That's alright. I'll get to hear your pretty little coos later."

_What the fuck do you want...? Why are we still here...?_ "..." Reaper still hadn't moved from where he froze. He was... unsure of where to go from here. Call him Lord and be humiliated to use the Master title? Use the Master title and be mocked yet praised? He wasn't sure...!

He didn't even know why Nightmare was _here!_

If anything, this was all just a... nightmare, though he had little desire to resort to mentioning the king's name in any way. Once, he might have laughed at the pun, but now? Now, he had three husbands slumbering peacefully upstairs, all with their own scars gifted to them by the smiling skeleton before him. There was nothing funny about the king, or his name.

"Don't just stand there, little bird. Come, sit."

An order. Gritting his teeth, Reaper obeyed as any good pet would and drifted over. Without direction, he situated himself on the arm of Nightmare's current throne: Their own- _the_ living room armchair. "..."

"Comfortable?" Nightmare crooned with the god's own voice. A silent nod. "Good, good. I resigned myself to waiting for you all to wake, but you'll serve as my company now. Unless you'd rather rouse the others early?"

That was a hard no. "No, my..." he dropped his gaze, "...master."

He was rewarded with a cool hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. Approvingly, fingers stroked the scar often hidden by his clothing. "Very well, little bird. Let's... wait."

_Whyareyouherewhyareyouherewhyareyouhere?!_

With each moment, the silence seemed to press onto them more and more, not that Nightmare seemed to mind. If anything, he seemed even more pleased, occasionally licking his teeth and humming a soft, short note to himself. Somehow, it reminded the god of death the way taste-tester savored a fine, aged wine. Or a snake testing the air for their prey.

But... wasn't that one and the same for him?

_Whywhywhywhy?? Why are you-?_

"I've been having a thought..." Nightmare murmured. His soft voice was nearly too loud in breaking the silence and, unwillingly, Reaper flinched. Those cool fingers tightened on his nape. "I've been considering this for some time... though I've no reason to act upon my ideas for the moment..."

_What...? What...?? Is... is he asking for advice or something?_ Reaper couldn't bring himself to hope for something so innocent.

Besides, the lord didn't seem to _want_ any feedback. If anything, he seemed to be musing to himself.

A sensitive spot Reaper wasn't even aware he had was skimmed, earning the king a shudder that he actively sought to recreate. With intent, Nightmare massaged the little spot until Reaper was blue in the face with what he couldn't control and nauseous with horror. _Stop it, you-_

"Then again, I suppose that boredom is reason enough."

Already uncomfortable, Reaper shifted slightly out of nervousness. Admittedly, a good deal of fear invoked the urge to squirm as well. _Boredom...?_ The thought of a bored Nightmare was terrifying.

"Tell me, little bird... would you like to help me come to a decision?"

The question felt like a trap. Then again, every situation Nightmare put them in felt like a trap in some way, shape, or form. "...I-if you'd like my help, then... okay, m-master."

Nightmare turned his head slightly to more fully appreciate the discomfort the god was trying to hide. "You don't seem like you'd like to help me." His other hand slid around to rest upon one of Reaper's knees. "Perhaps you're... just too... tense...?"

Warning bells went off in his head the moment Nightmare made his presence known. Now, with that too heavy hand on his knee, alarms and sirens and every sort of loud, blaring sound warning of danger began to echo within his nonexistent ears. "M... master..."

"Shhh..." Nightmare whispered, stroking smooth bone through the material of Reaper's sleeping wear. "Just... settle down and relax. Listen as well, little bird. This time, it'll be I entertaining you with my voice."

His husbands were just upstairs. If Reaper screamed, they'd come running down, but at what cost? Ink was damaged enough, and Error needed to be kept as far away from Nightmare whenever possible. Stars, Geno too. "..."

"Good," the king praised. His hand stilled, but remained upon Reaper's knee. A warning. "This may come as a surprise to you, but I always did quite enjoy reading. Novels, textbooks... if it can be read, I read it. I simply can't resist. Once, I came across some... interesting stories though, stories that seem as if they'd amuse one of your kind."

"The... t-the story...?" he asked, prompted by a squeeze to his knee. _What's the point of this? What is he trying to do?_ He didn't know, but... _Better done to me than to my husbands._

"Primordial creatures," Nightmare breathed. The way he said it though... If he could, Reaper would have hid his shudder. "Do you know of them, little godling?"

"...Fairytales..." That wasn't the truth though, and Nightmare knew it. Biting back a noise when the hand on his knee trailed higher, Reaper dropped his gaze. "...The primordial beings are old. Old enough that their stories are practically lost to all the worlds. What's left is little more than fairytales told to children."

"Old, not dead?"

"No one knows," he whispered.

"I've collected what stories I could, you know? Would you like to hear one?"

Admittedly, he actually wanted to a hear tale or two. When the creatures of lore roamed the multiverse, Reaper was just a child. Hell, his own son was mentally older than Reaper had been at the time. He didn't remember them, not beyond what little fragments he could blearily recall, but the Primordials were a big part of his own culture. It would be nice to pass that onto Goth, and the other children he'd one day come to father.

"I... I wou-"

Nightmare's gaze snapped to the ceiling. "Someone is awake, it seems."

They listened for a few moments, hearing the steps go from one room to another. Then the shower began to run. _Error..._ Reaper guessed.

Nightmare didn't smile, but the tone of his words suggested one nonetheless. "I suppose I can gift you a trial story, Reapsy, for being such a nice lap warmer."

_It could be worse it could be worse,_ Reaper reminded himself desperately. Memories of Error crying about cheating rose up, and though it was maybe horrible of him, the god was glad those memories were the only thing rising. Aside from his morbid curiosity about the stories Nightmare allegedly held about the Primordials...

"Which story though...? Where to begin...?" Nightmare mused.

Reaper resisted the urge to fidget again, especially when the lord's fingers drummed mindlessly against his thigh. _How long does Error's showers usually take?_ He wasn't sure. Maybe a few quick minutes so he can check on Reaper, especially when the god wasn't with them? Maybe an hour because he fell asleep in the clothes from last night?

Still, Nightmare mused, until- "Ah, the beginning is usually the best place to start, isn't it? It's quite boring though. A little self-centered of the First Primordial, in my opinion. What do you think, pet?"

_Self... centered...?_ Unease made it difficult to think, but Reaper fought through sluggish, muddled thoughts and memories until he found a fragment of information to latch onto. "They... they created-" he paused when Nightmare began to chuckle, though fingers creeping ever closer to sensitive anatomy urged to him to continue. "T-they created the rest of the primordial creatures."

"Children?"

Wedding bells rang throughout his memory. Being too short to see above the crowd, yet too new at drifting through the air to raise himself... "No. The first primordial put neither egg nor seed towards the creation of the others. They took no familial claim."

"True." Feeling the god deserved a reward, Nightmare smiled and slid his hand down. As he did so, a tendril coaxed Reaper into bringing his knee towards his chest. Upstairs, the shower shut off. A quick shower then. "Tell me, how many of them were there total?"

He... he didn't know... "I... have no answer for you, m-master."

"Guess."

"F-five?"

"Guess again."

"T-ten?"

The bathroom door opened. Footsteps.

"Again. Lower this time, not higher."

Lower than ten? Or lower than five? "I... I-"

_"Guess,"_ Nightmare hissed.

"Reaps? Are you awake?"

"T-three!" he chirped, heart racing when the sound came out high and sharp.

Something cold clamped around his ankle.

"Correct."

The steps froze from upstairs. _Don't come down, don't come down,_ Reaper begged.

An uncomfortably warm breath tickled his jaw, "Do you remember who they are, Reapsy?" he murmured with Error's voice.

_No...! No I..._

But... something else was tickling the god. A memory. Nearly too old to remember anything more than the impressions. The feeling of fear, of acceptance, of motivation. Those feelings were so vague, Reaper couldn't-

Nightmare leaned closer to Reaper's face, murmuring. "Maybe next time, little bird..." He tightened his grip around Reaper's nape, urging him up and off his temporary throne before standing for himself. And despite the colder air that chilled where Nightmare's already cool hands lay, he found it to be a comfort. A small one, but one regardless.

Reaper kept his gaze down as he listened to Nightmare's steps head towards their front door. "I expect for your lack of sleep tonight to not affect your work tomorrow, pet."

"I-It won't... m-master..."

The doorknob turned, though no steps followed. Through sheer force of will, Reaper stayed submissive, and was rewarded with another soft, "Perhaps I shall lend you a copy of one of my findings. Should you and my other pets please me properly on your mission..." the god could hear the smile with Nightmare's last words. He waited with a held breath as the door clicked closed, just as Error emerged at the top of the stairs.

Reaper squeezed his eyes shut, desperately hoping that by the time he rested them upon his husband, no tears would leak through. "Heya Ru... what're you doing up?" _How did you sleep?_ Are Ink and Geno okay? Are _you_ okay?

Error frowned, "Three...?"

"I was trying to read the clock," Reaper lied. "I'm still a little sleepy, so my eyesight is off at the moment. Does that say three, or four? I want to make sure I have time to shower."

Frown deepening in suspicion, Error narrowed his sockets slightly and turned to face the clock. Then, his eyes narrowed more. "...I can't tell..." he mumbled, eyesight as terrible as always.

"R-right..." Reaper murmured.

They exchanged glances with each other, trying to judge who was going to speak next, and maybe what they were going to say.

The god made his choice, "...how was your shower?"

"Useful."

"That's..."

Error glanced around the room, squinting a little harder. "Reaps...? Why aren't the lights on?"

"O-oh, I can- I didn't- heh, sorry," Reaper hurriedly turned the lights on, wincing with Error at the sudden colors.

Again, silence started to settle in on them, though Error walked towards the kitchen. Reaper's mind was still on Nightmare and his supposed stories. *What was the point...? Why did he mention it? Was there something I'm supposed to-?"

"It's 3:47, Reaps," he heard from just inside the fridge.

The answer to his fib startled a laugh out of him. "I-is it? Heh, thanks, Ru-" he took a step towards the kitchen, and stumbled. "W-what the hell...?"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, hon, I'm just... talking to myself." Not the most reassuring thing, but it was all he could think of as he clawed at his pants in order to see his ankle- "No," he whispered. "No, no, _no."_ Begging for this to all be a twisted nightmare of a dream, he lifted himself into the air as he often did. For a few seconds, it felt right.

Then, he tipped to the side. Quickly, he corrected it, trying to account for a weight he wasn't used to. A weight he didn't want to be used to, damnit! "Shit... shitshitshit..." When he landed back on his feet, there was a quiet sound of metal tapping against metal.

Miserably, Reaper let his pants cover the golden anklet and it's little charm.

_What am I going to do...?_

"Reaps," again, Error's voice unintentionally startled the god, and when he appeared with two bowls of overnight oatmeal, Reaper found himself murmuring a thanks and joining him on the couch.

_Walking._

The soft echo of both their steps had Error frowning slightly, though not making a move to mention it. So they ate in silence.

Again, that damned silence... a high pitched droning. The subtle ticking of clocks that have slowly gotten louder though for now stayed as background.

Only broken by clinking of dishes and mastication. Neither offered the other conversation, and Reaper suspected that was due to different reasons as well.

In spite of all the rest he received, exhaustion pulled at Reaper, weighing him down like the weighted anklet wrapped just a little too snugly around his ankle. Speaking of which...

Discreetly, he rotated the joint and winced when gold bit into bone. That... would be a problem. _If it doesn't come off soon, it's going to hurt._ He could tell now that the friction would soon produce a nasty cut, one that wouldn't heal correctly without relief from the restrictive jewelry.

Knowing the man who forced the gold upon him, Reaper was just going to have to deal with it.

At the thought, his exhaustion only grew and the god sighed, quietly informing Error that he was going to go shower to wake him up a little. As he made his way to the stairs, he took care to walk slowly. The little charm of Nightmare's insignia would jingle like a bell if his steps were rushed. _Tired... I'm so tired..._ but it wasn't his eyes struggling with his exhaustion.

It was his mind, his sanity. Maybe even his heart.

_At least Gen is awake,_ he thought, clinging to that small bit of good. Striped of his clothing, he pressed his forehead against the shower wall and let warm water wash over him. _I can hear his voice now. I can hold him, and feel his arms wrap around me in turn... and we'll be able to feed him better now, too. We don't even _have _to feed him! Because he's awake, and now he can do so himself. That's... that's good. It's so good... _Tears joined the droplets of water splattering around his feet. ._...but __Ink's still in pain from nearly dying, and I know he's horrified over what Nightmare made him do. Ru... I don't know how Nightmare did it, but he thinks his own assault his fault._

As for Reaper himself...?

Being a good little songbird that Nightmare could coo at and stroke apparently wasn't good enough for the king anymore. Now, he was... what? A pretty pet, and story teller? He didn't know. It... felt like he never knew anything for certain anymore. Well, almost anything. There were a few things he had certainty in, after all.

His love for his husbands, and those they left behind. His hatred for Nightmare. His ability to be a good father to the twins... 

And his relief that, though missed, Dream wasn't here with them.

_I'm sorry our first date ended like it did, sunstar,_ he thought, sockets opening to watch the water swirl around his feet. When he shifted, more friction occurred and the faintest tint of cyan colored the water. One day, when we're back home and settled, I'll take you on another one.

Until that day arrived, all he could do was hope that Dream had it better than them.


	42. A Dream Babysitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream has been doing his best to help with the children while their parents are gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning**: Depression thoughts
> 
> Also, we are switching gears over to Dream and the kiddos for a bit~!

With one hand gripping his forehead and the other a now-cold cup of coffee, the guardian finally decided to shut his eyes. Last he checked the clock, it flashed some bullshit about 2 AM. In another 5 or 6 hours, breakfast would have to be made for PJ and Goth. Maybe Spright and Respite too, if they haven't already left for work or grocery shopping.

At some point, he and Blue were going to need to discuss their next steps in protecting the multiverse. Maybe Sci had some insights? Dream sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to remember what Blue said about Sci. Was he contacting the other? Already had plans? Merely mentioned him?

And of course, Dream needed to visit Underfell... something he was frankly dreading, but knew he needed to do. Maybe Spright could stay-

"Eyo, broski. Why ya up?"

_Well, that’ll help a little..._ Dream looked up to the skeleton. His eyes were somewhat assaulted by the crazy patterns all over the other's pajamas. "I could ask you the same."

"Heh, gettin' some early mornin' grub. Res has got some early workin' ta do."

For some reason, the guardian felt surprised. _Spright and Respite...?_ He couldn't remember the two being in the same room besides meals, let alone potentially being... _together...?_ Of course, he had plenty of other obligations to distract from them. It almost made him jealous... "Early grub huh?"

"Ya! There's deez mini muffins in da fridge. I made 'em for da family. Da chocolate ones are for da kiddos."

Dream's tired smile lifted with a bit of genuine emotion. "Heh, they'll love that. I'll be sure to set them on the table for their breakfast. It'll be a treat, since they don't usually get much sugar in the mornings."

"Coolio!" Already waist deep in the contents of their fridge, Spright kicked a leg up to draw Dream's attention, unknowing that he never lost it to begin with. "Before I forget, dere's some for you too, Sandman! Didn't really know what ya would want, so I made honey ones and some plain ones fo' yo' coffee."

A desire for sleep weighed his eyes, but Spright had them welling with tears he was quick to blink away. Despite the weeks he had to grow accustomed to his place within his boyfriends' home, Dream didn't know Spright nearly as well as he wished. The same went for Reaper's brother, Respite, as well. They helped each other everyday, but growing bonds on a deeper level than uniting over children was difficult when there was so much to do.

For this reason, Spright was always so surprising to him. He knew a bit about what the taller skeleton once risked becoming, but none of the smiling emptiness of an infected Fresh was apparent in Spright. He smiled, he laughed, and he cried when he thought no one would notice. It was all genuine, too.

Most of all, he loved more than Dream ever would have expected. So much affection was held for the children, and recently? That familial love opened to Dream to. _"I made 'em for da family."_ For Res, the children...

_And Dream._ In addition to that, Spright made him honey flavored muffins, too.

_"Some honey for my honey~"_

_"M'not honey! M'ah... ah star!"_

Skull suddenly aching, Dream winced and rubbed his head, murmuring, "Honey is my favorite flavor, actually..." which was true. He loved the amber sweet for as long as he could remember.

Secretly, Spright smiled. The lack of honey flavored candies in the not-so-secret candy stash had hinted him to the guardian's preferred flavor, but it was the sudden abundance of other sweet foods and the entire bottle of thick, sugary liquid in their pantry and spare bedroom that fully convinced the survivor.

But... well, the guardian didn't need to know that, right?

"I hope ya like it, Sandman!" He retreated from the fridge, pulling some cutely decorated mini muffins out to warm slightly. A soft, rainbow-colored post-it note atop of it. A soft smile was on Spright's face as he reread whatever was on the note before he set it out on the counter and went back in for some juice. It wasn't common, but Respite would occasionally bring juice at the beginning of his shifts. A... pick-me-up, should the rest of the family (mostly Reaper) felt he needed it.

Dream smiled a little. "You and Res...?"

"Ya?" Spright asked distractedly.

Amused, the guardian added a little bit of oomph to his voice, _"You and Res?"_ he questioned, finding it within him to smile even as a mouthful of cold, bitter coffee left him wanting to cringe.

"Uh, I still don' get it, bruh." From his inventory, he withdrew a brightly colored lunch box. He wasn't sure who the yellow square on it was, but he liked the vibrant blues and the fun, colorful shapes of the flower shaped clouds. "Me and Res wha- O-oh!" Brighter than the lunchbox he used to pack the Papyrus' things in was the color blossoming on his cheeks. "You, uh... noticed?"

_I've never seen him so bashful before._ "Not until just now," Dream admitted. "You've hid it well, if that was your intention. If not, then..."

Understanding softened the embarrassed grin Spright wore. "It's been busy, Sandman. Easy ta get all caught up in yo noggin when things are as cray as they've been. 'Sides, Res and I... uh, we _were_ hidin' it. The lil' dudes are doin' better, but I don't wanna stress 'em out by changin' too many things around dem at once."

_He's a good guy._ He probably always has been but it wasn't easy to see it all the time. Just like he said, there was a lot going on...

But... Spright deserved happiness. So did Res. And once PJ's and Gothy's parents were home... well, Dream couldn't let himself think of anything that would prevent them. It _needed_ to be an inevitability... because, PJ and Goth without their parents? No. The only thing more cruel was if Night-

"Dream?" Spright waved a hand in his face. "Ey, bro, ya gotta get some rest. I'll stay up'n feed da kiddos. No work today for me."

"O-oh, Spright, you don't-"

The colorful skeleton grinned sheepishly, "Ya don't gotta worry 'bout me broski. When's da last sleep ya got?"

"..."

"Exactly," he nodded firmly. "Go rest. The kids need ya too."

The fact that Dream offered no other arguments spoke of just how direly that rest was needed. Usually, his stubbornness lasted for no less than three attempts at reassuring the others he was okay.

This time, he merely nodded with a mumbled thanks and made his way upstairs. Out of habit, he slowed when passing the rooms the absent skeletons called their own. It was futile, but he could never shake the irrational hope that they would just... reappear. He'd walk pass their room, and quiet voices or the pleasant sensations of four peaceful dreams would alert him to their presence.

_Childish little Dream..._ he scolded himself, speeding up against to make it to his room. Come morning, he would regret having not changed out of his clothing, but he had no more energy to spare for anything other than flopping across his bed. _When will you ever learn that wishful thinking and Positivity isn't enough to change the world?_

His own thoughts left him frowning. When exhausted, he had a habit of thinking poorly about himself. It was something he was used to, it was just... _Why does it always have to be your voice I hear, brother?_ He couldn't recall Nightmare ever having said such things to him, yet it was always his voice in a tone that implied Dream's thoughts recalling a quote. _I'm too tired for this._

Even as he closed his eyes for a long nap or a short sleep, it was the echoes of his brother's voice that let him go.

———

He rose before the kids, giving himself enough time to more fully prepare their breakfast and bring it to their room.

PJ was the first to wake up, bleary eyes opening with confusion at the scent that hit him while they still lay in bed. "Mm'fast...?"

"Yep!" Dream smiled to them, "A surprise breakfast in bed."

Perking up, the little artist grinned and went to crawl out of bed. Halfway across the bed, however, they paused and shot a look at Dream. "Um...?"

Dream shook his head, already well aware of where this was going. "Paperjam," he began sternly, "Is your little brother in your bed?" Even as he asked, he knew the answer.

Shamefaced, the six year old sat back and adjusted their blanket. Sure enough, Goth's little figure was revealed, though the slumbering child remained unaware of this.

"Paperjam..."

"Gothy had a bad dream!" The older child exclaimed, defending both himself and their little brother. "S'my job as a big brother to keep him safe!"

Ah, so it was a little boy moment?

Dream softened and set the tray he held aside for now. "Jammy, sweetheart, if you two can't sleep or have scary dreams, you should seek out me or one of your uncles. It's okay to want to comfort your brother, but for right now? You and Gothy need to sleep in your own beds."

Normally, he wouldn't have an issue with two children seeking comfort from one another, but he was starting to get a little concerned. And he wasn't the only one. Spright shared his own concerns with him, as did Respite. Individually, both admitted that they were getting a little worried that the children were growing to be a little too codependent in their parent's absence. They ate together, played together, read books together... And now, they were sharing beds.

It was harmless, yet… not. What little independence the children showcased was being lost. If Paperjam wanted to draw upstairs but Goth wanted to watch the television downstairs, one either gave up on doing what they wanted to do, or both did and ended up miserable. Suggesting that they separate for a bit and do their own thing though...

_Tearing up, Goth threw down the book he requested Dream read to him and ran to hide behind his brother. "I... I d-don't wanna read no more!" he cried, clinging tightly to Paperjam's back._

_Even as Dream frowned, Paperjam brightened, thinking he was going to get someone to paint with. "Gothy, I said that I would read you your story. We just need to stay down here, honey. I'm waiting on a friend."_

_"N-no! Upstairs, with Jammy!"_

_"Gothy..."_

_"NO!" the child screamed. "Upstairs! Upstairs with Jammy, so... s-so Jammy doesn't leave!"_

It was hard separating two children who believed being parted meant the other would leave for good.

With his gaze averted, PJ mumbled, "They aren't coming back..."

It wasn't a question, but Dream still felt the need to deny it. _Of course they're going to come back!_ But he couldn't promise that. He still wasn't entirely sure what was going on at the castle. He didn't know how to help. He didn't know what to do besides keep these two safe from his brother.

And he wasn't sure telling them about his brother keeping their parents was the best option... Because obviously it would be easy right? _Just ask your brother to bring them home Dunkle Dreamy!_

He closed his eyes and sighed. "You cannot make this a habit, okay hon?"

"He had a bad dream," Paperjam repeated, insistent that Dream understand the stakes that were at play. "Gothy doesn't like sleeping alone when he has bad dreams, dunkle! And... and _I'm_ the big brother, so I took care of him! All by myself!"

"You're six, sweetheart." Gently, Dream rested a hand on Paperjam's little cheek and smoothed away the tightness in his expression. He could tell the little artist wanted to cry. The only one stopping him from doing so was Paperjam himself. "Taking care of your brother isn't your job, Jammy."

"I can do it!"

"No one said you're not capable of looking out for Goth, honey. You do a very good job at keeping your brother happy, but it's _my_ responsibility to keep him safe. You too, Paperjam." Pressing a kiss to the little guy's skull, Dream smiled at him before grabbing the tray of food and taking a seat on a free corner of the bed. "You're not in trouble, okay? But we'll have to talk about this again before bed. For now, wake up Gothy. Your uncle Spright made you two muffins."

PJ seemed to relax. Not in trouble, but not necessarily out of the woods yet. He crawled further into his bed and nudged Goth. "Gothy," he whispered. "Gothy uncle Spright made muffins for breakfast!"

"Hmm..." Goth mumbled.

"Dunkle Dreamy said we can eat in bed!"

At that, the smaller skeleton opened his eyes wide and flicked his gaze between PJ and Dream. "...bed...fast...?" He cringed and hid further in the blanket. "....'m not s'pposed to be in your bed PJ..."

"No, you're not," Dream murmured, but smiled. "We can talk about it later. For now, it's breakfa-"

"Juice!" Goth's already wide sockets widened further still.

_"Honey tea!"_

Dream blinked, glancing around in confusion. "Honey te- Gothy!" he yelped, startled by the flurry of feather and tiny limps as Goth scrambled up.

You didn't spend centuries with a person like Ink without picking up a thing or two. A fondness for the dramatics was one of those things, unfortunately.

As the youngest of the two bounced on the bed, Dream swore that time itself slowed in response to the danger he now faced. With Paperjam, he avoided one potential meltdown. Now, he was tasked with dodging yet another tantrum in the making. Nervous, he swallowed and put on a smile. Goth could smell fear.

"Gothy, your uncle Spright made you and Jammy muffins today."

"Juice 'n' muffins!"

"Just muffins," he corrected. "They're _really_ sweet, so your juice is going to have to wait until later."

It almost didn't seem like it clicked with the little guy, until- "JUICE MUFFINS!"

_.....what....?_

PJ seemed to know what Goth meant. "Yeah! The muffins are super sweet like the juice so it's like juice!" He picked up a muffin and showed it to Goth. "Look! It's blueberry juice muffins!"

Bouncing even more, Goth made grabby hands at PJ. "Give give give!"

_"I want! I want! I want! Now!"_

Dream shut his eyes tightly, frowning. Stars, his head... "What do you say, little star?"

"Please?"

With Dream nodding his permission, Paperjam passed over one of the two small plates of muffins to Goth. Eagerly, the younger of the two shoved an entire mini treat into his mouth. "Muffin!" he cheered, crumbs smeared around his mouth.

Dream shook his head fondly, though he winced when the motion worsened his headache. "Don't eat them all at once, honey. I made you some eggs and bacon to help fill you up, so why don't you put those to the side for now?"

After another muffin, Goth complied and set his plate aside, as did Paperjam. When presented with their main breakfast dish, the two shared a grin before turning their smiles Dream's way, pleased with the little adjustments made with them in mind. For PJ, the eggs were fried like Ink seemed to like. Goth's on the other hand were scrambled, and drizzled in ketchup.

"I'll hold onto your drinks, okay? If you get thirsty, just ask."

"Coffee, dunkle?" Goth questioned, hopeful. Lately, he began asking for the drink, familiar with the scent that used to cling to his father, yet unknowing of the bitter taste. "No juice, but coffee?"

Dream chuckled, "Sorry, Gothy. You're too little for coffee."

"...Soon?" Prodding at his fluffy eggs, the younger child frowned and seemed to shrink as his shoulders curled defensively. "M'gonna be big. Mama put it on the calendar."

It was difficult, but Dream somehow managed to hold onto his smile. _His birthday is in three weeks..._ "Sorry, Gothy. Five is big, but not big enough to try coffee."

Goth looked like he was gearing up for a tantrum. First no juice and now no coffee? He put his fiercest mom glare on and turned it towards Dream. "Juice!"

"No."

"Coffee!"

"Gothy..." Dream sighed, thinking for a moment. "You can use my coffee scented lotion, but you still cannot drink coffee, okay?"

PJ perked up. "I want coffee!"

"Lotion? You can have some too." _I'm going to have to hide all the damned coffee aren't I...?_

Neither child seemed pleased, but breakfast was able to distract for the moment and that was good enough for Dream. "Do either of you two feel like having a bath today?"

Paperjam shook his head, though he was quick to switch to nodding when he caught sight of Goth doing so from the corner of his eye. "Yeah!" the two chorused.

Dream pretended to miss Paperjam's little change of heart. "We have a long day ahead of ourselves, so let's get you two washed up after you eat, okay?"

"Why is the day long, dunkle?" Goth questioned around a mouthful of eggs. "Did it get bigger, like... l-like daddy Inky did when he got super tall?"

"...No, honey," Dream murmured. "It's a saying. The day didn't actually grow, but we have a lot to do so it may seem like it if we get sleepy before we finish everything on our list. Do you get it?"

"Sounds stupid," Paperjam grumbled.

"It is a little stupid, but we still have a lot to do, okay? Uncle Spright is especially excited for today."

"Uncle Spright is home??" Goth asked brightly. "Uncle Spright isn't working today?"

"Nope! But the rest is a surprise, hon!"

Goth turned his eyes up to PJ, grinning brightly. "Surprise! A surprise!"

PJ, spurred on by Goth's excitement, grinned back. "Skateboards? Paintball? Mall shopping?"

_Oh gods, I never even asked Spright...._ Not that the kids needed to know... He held a finger to his grin and whispered, "Shhh, it's a secret!"

"Secret," Goth whispered back, matching Dream by pressing a tiny finger to his grin. Giggling, he soon returned to his breakfast with enthusiasm, content for the moment.

With not much else to do, Paperjam did the same and breakfast with the children continued with relative ease. By the time only crumbs remained on their plates, the two were even more energetic and ready to start the day in order to learn just what the surprise Dream mentioned was.

"Going to the park?" Paperjam guessed.

Goth carefully followed Dream down the stairs with his stack of dirty dishes. "Um... going to the bookstore!"

"The movies!"

"Going to the library!"

"Roller skating!"

"Going to the _other_ bookstore!"

Well, Dream certainly knew what he was going to get Goth for his birthday. "Silly skeles, a surprise means that I can't you! Even if you _do_ guess what it is." Smiling at their whines of complaint, Dream led the two into the kitchen to set the dishes in the sink for now. He didn't see Spright... "Okay, bathtime. Who wants to take theirs first?"

Nearly tripping over themselves, the two shouted 'me me!!' And raced up the stairs and across the hall to the shower. Dream hesitated for a moment, torn between finishing the dirty dishes and following the two to make sure they showered _separately._

Ultimately, he went with the second one, and called up the stairs, "One at a time you two!"

Reaching the top, Dream saw Respite kneeling by an excited Goth as PJ closed the bathroom door. "Gonna fly today with Uncle Spright, Uncle Ressy?"

Smiling with the darkness under his eyes hidden by his hood, the younger god of death murmured, "Spright doesn't have wings, remember Gothy? But he can help you fly and watch over you if you asked him."

"Awww.... I wanna fly.... Uncle Ressy when can you teach me? Pretty please?"

"In a few more days, okay? I can fly with you then."

Eye nearly sparkling, Goth clung to the Papyrus and squealed, "Yay!!"

Improvement. Up until a month ago, Goth couldn't even sit through his wings being groomed by his uncle without being worked into an upset over Respite preening his wings in place of Reaper. Flying was all but banned as a topic of discussion until Goth himself brought it up, voice small and eyes sad, but the interest there clear as day.

From what Dream understood, Respite was trying to teach the child the basics of how their wings worked before taking to the air, but it seemed like Goth was finally getting the taste of flight he's been wanting. _I'm glad, he's been needing something to cheer him up._ Maybe Dream could get him some goggles to protect his eyes?

_A thought for another day._ "Gothy, why don't you come pick out what you want to wear today? Your brother didn't take clothes into the bathroom for him, so let's grab an outfit for Paperjam as well.*

"Okay!" Before he left, Goth wrapped his arms around his uncle tightly. "Love you, uncle! Okay?"

Respite's tired gaze grew soft. "I love you too, nephew."

Dream smiled a little, listening to the child run off to his room for some clothes. "He's becoming less hesitant about his wings..."

Respite nodded slowly. "It's good. He should learn to, but..." somehow, he was able to lower his voice, "I worry... it might be a way for him to try to go looking for them."

Any happiness and hope the guardian felt of the kids' improvements tripped, landing in the thick mud stew he'd been trying to avoid.

"...You really think that's where his excitement stems from?" Dream murmured, watching the children's room for any sign of Goth. He could hear Paperjam's muffled singing through the bathroom door, but the smile it brought to his face was small, tired thing. "Stars, I never even considered the possibility."

Sharing in his exhaustion, Respite's tall form slumped even as he stood from his kneeling position. "I can't say for certain, but I worry over the possibility all the same. Goth..." Respite sighed, toying with the scarf that resembled both the little skeleton's, and Geno's. "He understands his father's duties and the absences they result in, but his mother? Geno has been a constant presence in Goth's life since my nephew's birth. To be without both, at once? When he's so used to the company of his mother? It's... difficult on him."

_"You... you hafta go again...? But... but's a special day! M'dun wanna hafta nap on a special day!"_

_"I'm sorry, starshine. I promise I'll be back soon though, okay?"_

_"...Pinky promise?"_  
  
"Yes, I pinky promise."

"...Rarely does a child want to part from their mother..." he whispered, gaze distant. "...I'm sure this is hard on them both." 

"It is," The Papyrus agreed, "but Paperjam has no wings, and the sky never draws his longing gaze as it does Goth's."

Dream sighed heavily. "We need to get them back...."

"I know. I cannot stray from my duties, or my brother's duties, but whatever knowledge I can acquire of them, you know I'll send your way."

"I know..."

Respite looked to him, trying to read the smaller skeleton. "Spright would help you too, should you ask it of him."

Dream nodded again. "His surprise for the kids should allow me to meet up with Blue for a bit. Maybe check to see if there's some info at our base..." He raised his gaze up to Respite and tried for an encouraging smile. "We'll make sure dinner is ready for you when you're home."

The god smiled and nodded slowly. "I appreciate that. I hope you get some rest too, Dream. You've been working really hard-"

"I can't stop-"

"I know, but... please try not to work yourself down to dust, okay? We still need you."

_"Stars, I... I need you...!"_

Unnerved, the guardian nodded quickly and watched Respite leave for work.

Moments later, Goth came running out of his shared room with a messy stack of clothing held in his arms. "I got the clothes, dunkle!" Coming to a stop before the guardian, Goth held his spoils up with a bright smile in order to better present his accomplishment with. "I didn't forget the undies this time!"

Dream withheld a laugh. "That's... good, honey. You got clothes for your brother too?"

"Yes!"

"Well now, you're just on top of everything today, aren't you?" Rubbing Goth's head with a smile, Dream took the clothing from Goth before sweeping the little guy into his arms to be held. Thankfully, there were feathers out there heavier than Goth and handling both him and the stack of clothes was easy enough. "I think I heard the shower turn off, so let's inside and give you your bath, okay?"

"I can do it by myself! Like PJ!" Goth protested.

Dream shook his head. "PJ is six, sweetheart. He knows how to use the shower _and_ he's old enough to do so on his own. You're still need a bit of help, okay? I'll let you do most of the work, but I need to be there."

Purple darkened Goth's cheeks as his expression scrunched with displeasure.

_Here we go..._


	43. For a Very Important Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream plays the part of the white rabbit and has quite a bit on his plate.

Dripping with water with a squirming, towel-swathed Goth in his arms, Dream made his way downstairs. His smile was still in place, but there was no denying the bags under his eyes. _Spright, please be ready with that surprise..._

PJ and Spright sat at the counter, seemingly playing a game. There was a small clatter, a moment of silence, then PJ exclaiming, "I get to go first!" He slapped a card down and stared up at Spright.

"Ah man, ya makin' me draw 4 already?"

The little artist beamed, then glanced over his shoulder as Goth and Dream made their way into the kitchen. "Gothy!"

The smaller skeleton brightened. "Jammy! What are you doing?"

"Cards! Uncle Spright's teaching me Uno!"

Tears suddenly welled in Goth's sockets. "..."

Dream tensed slightly and looked at Spright, opening his mouth to say something just as- "Uncle Spright said I could teach you later!"

The foul mood that was brewing almost instantly let up and brought a smile to Goth's face. "Ok!"

At risk of tears of his own from sheer relief, Dream made his way over and settled Goth down in a free seat. "Spright, I hate to ask this of you on your free day, but..." he hesitated, glancing between the children.

"Heh, I got 'em if ya need to run out, bruh."

"...Are you sure?"

Grinning, Spright nodded and leaned across the table to rub his nephew's skulls. "Family time ain't workin' time, Sandman. Gettin' to hang with the kiddos ain't no trouble for me." When Dream looked read to protest, he flashed him a thumbs up. "Really, broski. I got this."

"You're goin...?" PJ questioned, cluing into what their discussion meant.

"Just for a bit," Dream promised.

Little wings curled forward, wrapping around Goth like a security blanket. "You... you're gonna come back though, right?" Unspoken, _You're not gonna leave us too?_

_"You're gonna come back, right...?"_

_"Of course I am, starshine."_

Smiling in spite of the ache in his chest, Dream stepped forward to press reassuring kisses to each of their cheeks. "Don't worry, you two. I'll be back before you know it. Until then, you have your uncle Spright to have fun with!"

Doubtful, nearly hurt gazes were tossed his ways, though Dream tried his best to not notice them. _I will be back. I will be back._ After all, he couldn’t bring himself to think of the alternative… He offered a side hug to Spright, unsure if the other skeleton would be willing to go for it. Warmth spread slightly in his SOUL when Spright did give the guardian a squeeze. Albeit brief, it was pleasant.

"Okay, I should be back later tonight," he murmured. Not a promise, but a plan. He nodded to each of them, not wanting to delay the goodbye, especially when he wasn't entirely sure what else he should say.

The next thing he was aware of, he was in the Doodle Sphere. It was... exactly as he and Ink left it before Dancetale... he squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself a moment to re-center his focus, before opening them-

And taking a startled step back from the grey child that stood before him with arms crossed.

"You're late," Core murmured, a clear note of disapproval in their tone. "You often are, but... well, I suppose I hoped for something different this time around, as futile as that hope may be. Your tardiness was already established for this timeline, after all. My mere existence isn't enough to change that."

"...Core," Dream greeted blandly.

"Guardian."

For a moment, the two merely stood their ground, staring. "What exactly am I late for?" Dream asked, worried that should the silence stretch, he'd fall asleep on his feet. "For the sake of my sanity, give me as straight as an answer as you can, Core. I'm really not in the mood for untangling riddles."

Rocking on their heels, Core tilted their head and frowned. "You're late, Dream. I can't give you the specifics of your tardiness, but..." Sighing, they dropped their crossed arms. "Just know that running late as you is dangerous. And quite unfair. For you, Ink, the children you care for... _the multiverse..._ If you don't come up to speed soon, I'm going to have to get involved more than I should."

"Then just do it," Dream snapped.

Their eyes widened. "I cannot. My interference may very well make things worse-"

"Are you not interfering now?" Dream challenged. "By showing up and telling me I'm late? What the hell am I late for, Core? Because I was simply going to tidy up here and visit Blue."

"Blue... A tragedy what happened with Muffet... is this the timeline where Stretch knows?" At Dream's expression, the child nodded. "Ah, a good thing he doesn't yet then."

Dream stepped closer, unsurprised to see the child glitched to a different part of the room. "What do you want?"

"You're late. That's all I came to tell you. And the sooner you figure it out, the better it will be for the lot of us. Perhaps even _all_ of us. But especially for you. Though I suspect you'll still be late by a couple days or weeks. And then you'll be late yet again by a few months. My, my... that poor thing for having to wait..." To themself, they murmured, "Maybe you won't figure it out... no you should, it's still with you..."

Dream's sockets narrowed, "And what exactly does _that_ mean, Core?" As he questioned the unnatural being, his thoughts briefly flickered to the little object he's been keeping hidden, stashed away in a satchel he's taken to carrying around. It couldn't be that, could it? _No... No, I left it back home, in my-_

The weight of Core's gaze shifted. Still resting heavily on Dream, it moved the slightest bit left, then down. His hip.

When Dream followed the moment with his hand, he froze. _I... I don't remember putting my satchel on._ If anything, he made a point of removing it before helping Goth scrub, knowing the fitful child would only get it wet in his upset. And yet, there it was. _Did I... grab it before going downstairs...?_ They stopped in his room for- for what? The object? All he could remember was grabbing something while trying to calm Goth.

"Don't be frightened, Dream," Core murmured.

Disturbed, Dream dropped his hand. "What's going on with me, Core?" This wasn't the first something odd concerning the apple took place. The voice that sometimes echoed in his head, the strange sense of longing within him whenever he and his satchel were apart, his headaches and the bits of... _something _he sometimes saw flashes of... he didn't understand it. Any of it. He liked it even less. "You know something."

"I know everything, Dream. And yet, I know nothing. Being what I am... _where_ I am doesn't mean that the answers I have are the ones most relevant to you. All I can offer is some advice, I'm afraid."

"What advice?" The words were spiteful.

Core didn't take it to heart. "You look peckish. A snack would do you some good."

"...That's it?" Expression and voice flat, the guardian stared the little Frisk down. "Your advice is that I... eat?"

"I hear that apples are good for you."

"I don't like what you're implying, Core."

Many comebacks seemed to flash across the child's mind, for their expression became extremely conflicted. When their empty gaze settled on Dream's again, they frowned with something that hit him a little too close to home.

_Disappointment._

In a blink, they were gone, leaving Dream with far too many questions than answers. Slowly, he lowered his hand into his satchel and patted the surface._What's so special about you?_ Dream wondered, expression dark. His mind swum with too many thoughts and fears.

_Nightmare tightened his grip around the purple apple, a terrified, somewhat haunted gaze in his seeping sockets. He didn't even spare his brother a glance as he took a bite of it._

_And every orifice, seen and unseen, seemed to explode with dark goop that entirely covered him. Tendrils tore from his back at the same time as a scream echoed throughout the AU. Those denizens that terrorized the more reclusive twin backed away as the scream filled them with a dread they wouldn't have time to regret._

_Dream stood there, staring with his own horror. "Bro...ther....?" he whispered._

_And when his brother turned to look at him, it wasn't the beautiful, kind purple eye lights the guardian of positivity was used to. It was a single, toxic green light that narrowed with his sneer-_

He physically flinched from the memory, slipping his hand into his bag and gripping the object within so tightly it was surprising the fruit didn't bruise. _No.... no I don't want to become what Nightmare is now..._

Unbidden, a sob made itself known as Dream's eyes filled with tears. _I... I won't become like him...! _He didn't care if it was some unseen presence or his own insanity he spoke to. _I' won't give up who I am...! I won't fall to my own weakness!_

The apple didn't respond. It would whisper and croon to him throughout the day, yet the moment he replied all sweet, bell-like words stopped. _You're going insane,_ the silence seemed to say, laughing.

Scowling, Dream roughly shoved the gleaming apple back into it's hiding place. Unless Core could give him a reason without a veil of mystery, he wouldn't eat it. Without Ink, he was the best defense the multiverse had. He couldn't afford to lose himself to an unknown influence.

_Core wouldn't put the worlds at risk like that, a distant part of him said._ Tired, Dream ignored it.

He had work to do.

———

It was quick work to tidy up the Doodle Sphere, though it left him feeling even more off balance. _Too tidy..._ he thought to himself.

_"We should move the cabinet over there!" Ink's voice echoed. He motioned to where he thought it should go with his paintbrush, predictably splattering ink in an arc across the ceiling._

_Dream glanced up and sighed, startling as a drop hit him square in the forehead. Ink glanced over and laughed._

Echoes of that laugh were evidenced in the now-faded ink still upon the ceiling. He had to glance away. _The sooner we get Ink back, the sooner he can mess this place up again..._

_I have to get him back first... him and Reaper and Error and Geno... and my-_

He opened a portal to Underfell and stepped through, glancing around cautiously. _First up, talk to Red..._

Stars, he hoped the skeleton would be willing to talk before trying to skewer him alive.....

After a few moments of walking aimlessly through the dust tainted forest, Dream paused. _Someone's angry..._ and close.

"Red?" He called out, wary as he pinpointed the source of anger. Too rabid for Red's, and too uncontrolled for Fell's own anger. Another resident of this world's Snowdin then. _Great. Just... great._

"That yer safeword, pretty? Aw, but I haven't even touched ya yet."

This day was getting better by the second, wasn't it? "Actually, my safeword is 'fuck off,' but thanks for asking," he growled, gaze sharpening as he turned around. No one was in sight, but he could sense the corruption in the air. _Behind the tree..._ It wasn't a clever hiding place, but he knew what bloodlust and LV could do a monster. Common sense was often tossed aside out of blind desire for _more._ "I'll only warn you once: Leave."

Laughter. "Bossy. M'gonna like breaking you dow-"

Without warning, the figure jumped at him with a wild look in their eyes. Unflinching in the face of danger, Dream shot them back with three arrows faster than the attacker could perceive. Lucky for the monster, none of the wounds were fatal. They just hurt like a bitch.

"Leave," he demanded, done with this entire confrontation.

The other monster snarled, panting against the pain. "Ah, yer one'a them soft-" _Shunk!_

Dream blinked, sockets widening slightly when the monster's SOUL dusted around a jagged bone. Glancing behind himself, he saw Red. _How did he-?_ he leapt out of the way of a bone attack aimed for his chest, deflecting another with his bow-turned-spear. "Red!"

"I ain't afraid ta kill ya, guardian," was the resident Sans' response.

Golden orbs glanced over Red warily. _He gained a level..._ Unsurprising considering the life that was just thrown aside, but even then... "Red," Dream began slowly. "Why is your level so high?"

Even as an official ally of the Stars, Red couldn't avoid the dangers of his world. As low as his stats were, the crimsoned eyed Sans was constantly at risk of attack due to being seen as 'level bait,' as the phrase was around here. The Stars could provide the world with aid, but Underfell was, at it's very core, a killed or be killed world, and Dream couldn't fault Red for the hard decisions he had to make. Still...

_His level hasn't been this high in **years.**_ Not since Red toed the line keeping him from becoming a fully fledged nightmare. "You promised you'd stop hunting for LV, Red."

Red sneered, "Looks like we're _all_ breakin' promises, pal."

_He's angry..._ Justified. More than that though, Red was afraid. "I'm not here to hurt you, Red. I just want to talk."

"Talk? Is that why ya're callin' it these days?" he hissed, stepping just slightly closer. More weapons formed around him, ready to strike Dream down should he move. Not that the guardian couldn't stop him.

"What are you talking about?" Dream sighed. "The only reason my weapon is out is because you attacked me. I'm simply defending myself right now."

"Yeah? And was it defense when your _coworker_ killed me?!"

Subtly, Dream's hand tightened around his spear. "There's more going on than you realize, Red. Ink didn't-"

A bone missed his skull by a thread. "I don't want to hear yer fuckin' excuses, golden boy. I fuckin' _trusted_ ya. _Both_ of ya dumb shits, and what did I get? Death!" Eyelight pulsating with anger, Red sent another attack at Dream. Then another. And another. "He took my fuckin' life _and_ my damn collar to boot! What, is he collectin' trophies? Or is the sick fuck gonna slap it around his dick to get off?!"

Stepping back to avoid an attack that landed near his feet, Dream frowned. _That's... crude._ "Red, let me explain, okay? Please? I'll send my weapon away if it helps?"

"What'll help me now is gettin' revenge," Red hissed, leaping forward-

Dream countered immediately, throwing the heavier skeleton off and gaining some distance between them. _I don't have fucking time for this...!_ "You don't want to talk? Fine! But I still need to see Sci-" again, another bone just nearly missed his head. "Enough, Red! It's over! I'm not here to attack you or kill you or whatever you're thinking, but if you're not going to talk to me then I'm going to move on!"

Snarling, Red lunged forward with an attack in hand. "Like hell you will!" _Terror, anger, concern._ "For all I know, you're in on the bullshit Ink pulled! I ain't letting ya anywhere near him!"

Understanding settled within Dream. "I'm not going to hurt Sci, Red! I don't even want to hurt _you!"_

"Bullshit!"

"Have I attacked?" Dream snapped back. "You've sent attack after attack my way, but how many have I returned? I'm not retaliating! I'm evening offering to leave! _You_ won't let me though!"

"You're jus' feigning innocence. You're gonna leave and hurt Sci an _I ain't gonna letcha!"_

"Why the _fuck_ would I hurt Sci?!" Dream growled. "I need his help, but if he can't or won't then I'm going to respect that, like I always have!"

"Tch!" Red spat. "More lies. Sci knows what Ink did here. And I know what he did ta Dancetale."

_People already-!_ Oh, but of course others already knew about what Ink did. Blue's monitoring aside, there were other Sanses out there who kept an eye on the multiverse for their own safety. And as for Nightmare... _I wouldn't be surprised if he let the destruction slip to a few open ears..._

"You knew too, didn't cha?" Red accused, picking out the truth from the subtleties in Dream's expression. "You call yerselves protectors, but all you keep safe is yer own asses!"

"Red, I know you're afraid, but-"

"I ain't afraid! I'm fucking _pissed!_ All that preachin' about keepin' out of the shadows was just a... just big ole fuckin' lie! You didn't care about me!" _Hurt._ "You didn't care about Dancetale!" _Anger... was he friends with Dance?_ "And you ain't gonna care about Sci!"

An attack clipped Dream's shoulder, flushing bone gold as it tore to drip marrow. _I should have been able to dodge that..._ but he was tired. What little rest he managed to get during the night wasn't enough, and the lingering confusion of Core's odd advice was only slowing his brain more. "Red-" he tried, knowing this had to end.

"That's Sans to you, _guardian._ Only my friends get to call me Red."

Well, that was just petty. "Red, just _listen_ to me! Pleas-" he dodged the next three hits, but a bone collided with his cheek that had his neck straining as the hit forced his head to the side.

Dream had enough.

Between one blink and the next, he was up close and personal in Red's space with a dead eyed stare.

"Fuck-!" Red began, cut off by a hand fisting the fur of his jacket and pulling him forward as Dream turned, using his momentum to carry Red over his shoulder and slam him into the ground. "Y-you-!"

Dream pressed a foot to his sternum to keep him still, though it was that unnerving look in his eyes that kept Red from teleporting away. "Ink and his husbands are being held captive by Nightmare. Ink. Was. Not. In. Control."

"That's-!"

_...true..._

Red snarled, "Then why the fuck did he kill me...?!" Beneath the furious words was the obvious sense of betrayal, but beneath was even more pain and confusion. And the faintest hope that was nearly gone.

_"Ru, **don't-!"**_

_Too quickly, strings were pulled taut and wrapped around Red's SOUL. Livid, Error snarled, "So, you'd put your family over the lives of others, huh? Guess we have that in common."_

_The strings squeezed slightly, and Red cried out. "Yeah, asshole," he panted, "Yer gonna do what you can to protect your family. **So will I."**_

_Red summoned more bone attacks, slicing through the strings that held him hostage. The Sans of Underfell lunged at the Destroyer, more and more attacks forming around him._

_"E-Error-!"_

_**There's not enough space!** Error took a step back, readying for the blow-_

_ **Paint.** _

_Error stared with widened sockets at Red's own look of surprise and pain. Red glanced over his shoulder to Ink just seconds before he collapsed into dust._

_He honestly couldn't ever remember seeing the Protector's eyelights so rounded and bleached of color..._

Panicking a little at the memory, Red struggled under Dream's foot. "Get off, get offa me, y-ya bastard...!"

Dream stared down at him coldly, golden eyes void of the gentleness most knew the guardian for. Beneath those empty eyes, magic tarnished white bone with exhausted stains, telling of many sleepless nights and quiet moments full of worry.

"If I let you go, will you fight?" Dream questioned, voice deceptively soft.

In his world, you fought until you either came up on top, or ended up dead.

Red averted his gaze. "...No..."

Just like that, Dream's foot was removed. "What Ink did to you was wrong." No matter what justifications the artist had, Dream knew that there was no excusing the suffering brought onto others. Ink knew it too, most likely. "A lot of what he's been made to do is wrong, but... in his situation, _everything_ Ink does is ultimately wrong. There's no good decisions to be made when Nightmare pulls the strings. At the time, it was following whatever orders he had concerning you... or potentially letting a husband and unborn children die."

"He _chose_ to kill me, Dream-"

"And you probably got off lightly. If Nightmare wanted Ink to bring you in, and Ink _killed_ you, can you even imagine what that punishment was? I just... I need you to see a bigger picture than what you witnessed. And Red? I'm sorry," he murmured.

"..." Red leaned back against his arms and growled, "Have ya heard from yer bastard brother?"

"No. And that worries me more. But that's why I need to talk to Sci-"

"Take me with you," the edgy skeleton demanded. "Me'n Boss. Just for a couple hours."

Dream sighed heavily, forming his spear back into a staff that quickly shrank and fit on his belt. "I need to speak to him about Star busines-"

"Please."

"..." _When's the last time Red ever asked for something, let alone use manners...?_ Against his better judgment, Dream nodded and opened a portal. "Just you, Red."

Knowing better than to throw a fit, the crimson eyed skeleton shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way through the portal. "It's 'bout time for his lunch break," Red mumbled, glancing around the room. Machines, but no Sci. "Knowin' the nerd, he lost track of time and is still workin'."

_He knows Sci schedule, does he?_ It was cute, but now wasn't the time to tease and needle Red over what was or wasn't going on between the two. "Do you know he would be about now?" At most, Dream only had three rooms recognized here, two of which Ink destroyed by curiously fiddling with the wrong experiences. "It's... been a while."

Wordlessly, Red motioned to Dream for follow him, though he hesitated when it came to turning his back on the guardian. "...You first. I'll tell ya the turns," he said after a few moments of confliction.

Knowing how to choose his battles, Dream did as told. After that, things went by... tensely, yet easily. Red navigated him to the correct room in the lab and within minutes, he was able to spot Sci through a small window in one of the walls.

"Do you-"

Red pushed passed the guardian and entered the room first, quickly putting himself between Dream and the scientist. "Nerd," he greeted.

Sci jumped, but didn't turn away from whatever experience caught my focus. "How many times do I have to remind you that _you_ like science too, Red?" A pause, then the realization. "Red! What are you doing here?"

"One of the _Stars_ wants ta talk to ya. I hitched a ride."

At that, Sci glanced over, resetting his glasses on his face to properly peer out towards Red and Dream. "Guardian of Positivity, Dream, huh? You must be desperate for new solutions if you're coming to me with your face looking like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're overworking yourself. For a moment, I thought I was seeing myself when I looked at you," Sci couldn't help a snicker. He turned back to his experiment and put things away. He wrote a note in his spiral bound book several feet away then approached one of the many industrial sinks. Over the sound of water and scrubbing bones, he asked, "What do you need Dream?"

_I need so many things..._ "Is it possible for you to... make some sort of shield or antidote or something to protect me from my brother's powers? At least for a day."

Sci stared at him, letting the water run through his fingers before shutting the sink off and drying his hands. "...why?"

"I need to-"

"No, why _now,_ Dream?"

Beneath the weight of all his failures, Dream felt small. "...On even ground, Nightmare and I cancel one another out. Our attacks still hurt one another, but our chances for victory? They're equal."

"You've never tried to change the odds a bit?"

Dream shook his head, "That's... a lot easier in theory than practice, Sci. In the face of danger, Neggy comes much more naturally to people than-"

"I'm sorry," Sci interrupted, "By 'neggy' do you mean negativity?"

"...Pardon?" Neggy? Dream didn't say-

"You said, and I quote, 'In the face of danger, _Neggy_ comes much more naturally.' Is... that a nickname for your bro- and you're looking at me like I'm speaking in hands. Sorry, Dream." Sheepish now, Sci fiddled with his glasses and grinned. "My curiosity gets a little out of hand sometimes, I know. It was probably just a little mistake from being so exhausted."

"Y-yeah..." he agreed, unsure.

Sci waited for Dream to continue, though with the silence stretching more and more, he made a mental note to do some research later.

"S-so... I need something to even or even _boost_ my odds against him, especially if I... well, I plan to enter his castle."

Red stared at him, wide-eyed. "Ya can't even enter the portal to that place because of all the bad feels comin' out of it."

"Exactly..." Dream turned his gaze back to Sci, tired and somewhat pleading. "If you're able to, please can you help me with it?"

Sci wandered over to the door, motioning for the others to follow. He lead them down to a smaller room filled to the brim with all sorts of books, of which he disappeared through the shelves. Red made himself comfortable in one of the bigger, worn out chairs and picked up a book from the nearby table.

Dream, on the other hand, stood almost awkwardly at the door. _What should he do...?_

Red glanced at him, but the look was brief and he soon returned to the book he had cracked open. When he flipped the page, it was with an obvious air of... not quite hostility, but enough anger that Dream understood that he was being purposefully ignored.

Out of sight, Sci could be heard muttering to himself as he rummaged around.

_I guess I'll just... look around?_ He didn't have any better ideas, so Dream left his safe little spot by the door and wandered in the opposite direction Sci chose. _Are all these for science...? _

No, he realized upon closer inspection. History, romance, horror, biology... _His organization could be better,_ but that didn't distract too much from the options Sci's library held.

"Dream," the scientist called, "Is there anything you can tell me about your abilities that you feel could be useful in the creation of a device to aid you? What about Nightmare's own abilities?"

Skimming through a few books, Dream frowned slightly in thought. "...When it comes to the very basis of our individual abilities, Nightmare and I don't differ much. We both draw power from the concepts we're meant to protect. Positivity..." he paused, brows furrowed. After a moment, Dream shook his head and continued, waving off an emotion he couldn't name. "Positivity for me, and negativity for Nightmare."

Sci hummed in thought, "Yeah, that I assumed..." but having it clarified was helpful in it's own way. Better a solid base to work off of than an uncertain one. "Are you capable of making emotion? As Positivity-"

"The _Guardian_ of Positivity, Sci. I..." his gaze lingered on the spine of a book that had to be at least several decades old judging by the wear and tear. "I'm not... positivity itself..."

"So you can't make positive emotions? Dream?" A few more beats of silence. "Hello? Dream? You're still in here, right?"

Gaze distant, Dream hummed quietly in response, his hand on the satchel still strapped to his side.

"Dream."

The soft murmur had the guardian whirling around, nearly smacking skulls with the scientist. "Y-yes?!"

Sci stared at him with a slightly narrowed gaze. "Are you capable of creating emotions?"

_Creating....?_ "I mean... I _have_ emotions...?"

"Can you make them."

Frustrated, Dream said, "I don't know what you mean. I can sometimes influence emotions, and I can appear when someone is feeling positive enough, but..."

"Okay so you can influence positivity. That's a start." Sci's eyes dropped down to the satchel. And Dream's hand still clinging to it.

Similar to a child being caught stealing sweets from the cookie jar, Dream snatched his hand away. "If I were to enter Nightmare's castle, there would be very little positivity for me to influence though. Worst case scenario, I would have to rely on my own emotions for even a speak of joy."

Sci frowned. "Can you... reverse engineer emotion? Say that, hypothetically, you entered the castle and there was no access to positive emotion, including your own." When Dream went to interject, he raised a hand, far from finished. "I'm not saying that would be the case, but if it _was_ and you, for whatever reason, couldn't tap into your own emotion, could you... I don't know, turn sadness into joy? Or hate into love?"

He had to consciously keep his hand away from his satchel. "...I never tried," Dream admitted.

Brows raising, Sci stared at Dream through the lenses of his glasses with no small measure of disbelief. "You've... never tried?"

It hard not to feel at least a little defensive. "Most of the time, I don't get to work with emotion directly. When the Stars are drawn towards a world, it's often because my brother or his nightmares are there causing havoc. We primarily deal with the _people,_ not the emotion."

"What about turning their rage into something... nicer?"

Dream shrugged, "Sometimes, there's no time to think. Is it possible? I don't know. There's more to battle than just fighting and, usually? I'm multitasking between keeping myself _and_ others alive. Besides, emotion... it's such a complex concept, Sci. Even if I had the time in the battle to try something like that, I'm sure I could manage it."

"So turning the negativity in Nightmare's castle against him is inconclusive for now," Sci sighed.

But now that he was thinking about it, Dream... wondered.

They were both empaths, right? And Nightmare could not only feel negativity, he fed off it and could increase it. Dream knew this from experience, though it... stars, why _hadn't_ it occurred to the positive guardian to attempt something similar? Was it immoral to influence positivity, and thus it wasn't as strong as negativity? Or maybe negativity is so much easier to remember, to lose oneself in, to _drown_ in that the best Dream had ever been able to do was get people out of Nightmare's path?

Sci wandered off, looking through a different aisle of books, muttering to himself again. Dream frowned a little and moved closer to a window seat, pausing as something glinted in the corner of his vision. Turning, he saw it was the reflective title of an incredibly old and dusty looking book. _"Trimordials",_ the title read.

_...what?_ Curious, Dream gently pulled it from the shelf. _No author..._ He blew the dust off, waving it away so he wouldn't cough, before cracking it open. And _crack!_ it certainly did. The guardian cringed. _How long has it been since this book was opened...?_

"Interested in fairytales atta time like this?" came Red's disapproving grumble.

Dream glanced up. "Fairytales?"

The angrier skeleton nodded to the book in his hand. "Yeah. That's such an old fairytale, but nobody seems ta've read it or _know_ it. Not even in uh..." he snapped his fingers, trying to remember, before loudly calling out, "Hey, Nerd! What's that place with the old dudes? The ones that don't know 'bout this super old fairytale book?"

_"Trimordials?_ That would be Reapertale, I believe," came Sci's patient answer. "But I think it's more a legend, or a huge metaphor than a fairytale, Red."

"Yeah, welp, it's too fantastical to be truth, anyway." Red shrugged. "Kinda odd there ain't an author, too."

_He's being... friendly..._ Dream dropped his gaze down to the first page where a black-and-white image stood.

"This is..." Afraid of damaging the aged pages, he carefully reached out and gently ran his fingertips across the picture. From what he could see, the image would have been beautiful had violent scratches of void-black ink not marred a majority of it. Due to the vandalization, all he could see were pieces of what may have been a star-filled background three distorted figures. "What a shame."

Touch light, he flipped the page. The next one was blank, save for a line in the center that was once again too scratched out to read. "Do you know where these marks came from...?" After a quick flip through the book, he found that not a single place was spared from the markings. Some were even torn out completely.

"The book is older than _you,_ guardian. Ain't anyone alive who could tell ya where all that ink came from."

_But if the book came from Reapertale..._ "Sci, do you mind if I borrow this? It... doesn't seem impossible to read, even with the marks." If he had to guess, only names were scratched out. Why though? "I think the children would like hearing a few fairytales."

"...Children?" Red growled, distrust surging back into his gaze.

Dream stared blankly at him. "Yeah. Ink's and his husbands' children. I'm taking care of them while I'm still unable to save them from being tortured by my brother."

Red tensed slightly. "O-oh..."

The air grew predictably tense between them again, though Dream took a page from Red's book and turned his gaze away to peer down at the marred pages. He ignored the fell monster, even as he paid attention to exactly where the other was at. From those aisles over, Sci said, "Sure. You can take it. I already scanned all of these books into my computers. The physical copies are just fun to flip through sometimes."

"And it's easier for you to have them spread out so ya don't strain yer eyesight, isn't it?" Red turned away from Dream, grabbing a book from the shelf to return to his spot by the window.

"Yeah, that too."

Dream traced some of the scratched out marks on one of the pages. _So many... it looks like a dialogue..._

"It really is a shame..." he whispered, feeling out the strange texture of the pages. Handmade? "You can tell that everything was written by hand. Why would someone ruin such hard work?"

"The backspace key wasn't exactly an option back then," Sci answered, well aware that the question was a rhetoric. "It's likely that the author made quite a few mistakes while writing and simply crossed them out rather than going through the struggle of starting all over again."

"I don't know..." Sci's theory had merit, but these markings were... angry. Hateful even, Dream would say if he had further insight into the mind of whoever was responsible for them. "Full of longing and misery..." he squinted, but the ink gave no secrets away as to what was crossed out. _"...**someone** reached into his chest and took hold of his very own soul, and from the essence of his being, drew forth all that was sour._

_Casting it aside **someone** urged the foulness to change; to shift from sorrow into something more. Someone more, for what loneliness could **someone** feel if there was company?_

_What loneliness could **someone** feel, if he had **someone** at his side?"_ flipping the page, Dream frowned upon finding a two page spread full of nothing but angry black scribbling.

Lost as he was in the story, he didn't notice Sci standing there until the Sans cleared his voice. "Enjoying the book? Because I have more questions."

Gently, Dream shut the pages and nodded to him.

"How do you feel about testing if you can manipulate emotions for good? Or would a tool to amplify the good feelings within you work better? What about a tool that gathers positivity from around you, and stores it for you, and you can use it as a shield or a buffer or both?"

Dream blinked a few times and nodded slowly. "That last one sounds promising... I don't know about... manipulating emotions. I don't want to be my brother."

Sci frowned a little. "If Nightmare can manipulate bad emotions, I think you could learn to manipulate good emotions. It's just... obviously you don't have experience with it, and I don't think it's something you can learn overnight, which means you're going to need an alternative plan. Maybe work on expanding the limits of your empathy while I make these tools?"

_Empathy..._

_Ink has empathy now too... stars, I couldn't even help him with it before-_

_A-anyway.. I wouldn't even know where to begin with manipulating emotions..._

They had a plan though, and Dream now knew there was something he could work on to perhaps better prepare himself should his plans be put into action soon. It was... a lot more than he had going into this, actually. That was good.

There were just a few more favors he had to ask. "I can't thank you enough for the help you're providing me with, Sci. It's... presumptuous to ask for more, I know, but... do you think you could do something else for me as well? A... _few_ somethings?"

Red glanced up from his book with a scowl. "Ain't this one thing already enough? Yer askin' him to practically build a weapon against _Nightmare._ What if he finds out and fuckin' hits this place up? You want to put him in even _more-"_

Interested by the prospect of more work, Sci pressed a hand over Red's mouth. "I can't make any promises, but I can certainly hear your request out, Dream."

The first request was easy to make. "Could you make a security system? You've done some work for us before, but could you make something for a house that's... child friendly? And maybe sturdy enough to keep monsters with at least a few levels to their name out?"

Sci hummed, thoughtful. "The other request...?"

"...How well versed are you in biological science?"

"I'm not that kind of doctor, but I could probably get by with some effort into studying. Why?"

This... probably wasn't his place. At this point, Dream didn't even know if it was something that would still be required by the time the husbands made their way back home. That being said...

"My own expertise only goes so far..." he began, voice hesitant and low. "If you had the time, would... would you be able to learn enough to act as a primary doctor for a pregnant individual? I know the science is varied, but... ultrasounds, check ups... potentially aiding in giving birth...?"

Even more intrigued, Sci shrugged. "It would be nice knowing a little more about such a thing." His gaze glanced briefly down to Dream's stomach, as if in question, before turning a flirty smile to Red.

Who blushed like his namesake and sputtered out a muffled, "Fuck you!"

"Maybe later," Sci murmured, letting him go. "Is that all, Dream?"

"Yeah. That's... all."

"Very well. I trust you know your way out?"

Almost awkward at the blunt dismissal, the guardian nodded. He clutched the strange book to his chest and left, finding himself back in the Doodle Sphere. He set the book on their work table, then pulled the golden apple and set that down nearby. _Connected? Is this connected or am I trying to force connections?_ He shook his head, eyes drawn to the book once again. _Who wrote you...? Why were they so... **upset**...?_

Unsurprisingly, the book did not come forth with any answers.

"Enough sitting around, Dream," he sighed, standing after barely a minute of reprieve. "I still need to get into contact with Blue. Then, I should get home." Spright was already watching the children for him on his day off for work. He shouldn't have to cook dinner as well. "Okay... lets do this..."


	44. Feeling Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream is stressed, but still a good friend.

Starry eyes gleaming with curiosity gazed up at Dream. "Wowie," Blue gasped, "I've never met another skeleton aside from my brother and I!"

In that moment, Dream swore that burden of his responsibility grew heavier from where it sat upon his shoulders. _He... doesn't recognize me..._ That could only mean one thing.

A reset.

Eyes dull, Dream put on a smile, "I..."

Didn't want to do this right now. Blue was a wonderful friend and an amazing student, but jogging his memory was difficult when resets took place. It could take a day for him to recall everything he once knew, or a month. Once, it took a year. _I hope the machinery in his basement is unaffected._ It was meant to stay put in spite of a reset, but...

_Stars, I'm so tired._ Still smiling, he held out a hand. "Hi, I... I'm Dream."

"Dream?" Blue took his hand, cringing a little, "I don't think I'm dreaming-" he blinked a few times, expression fading a little. "O-oh..."

Dream blinked.

In the moment it took for Blue to remember, he seemed to appear as tired and restless as Dream was. "Dream..."

"How did your world reset, Blue...?"

Weary, maybe a little hurt, Blue murmured, "The human got to the surface. We were all supposed to start moving up, but..."

"They reset before that could happen."

Blue nodded, squeezing Dream's hand. "I... don't think we did anything wrong...?"

Dream shook his head. "No... no of course not..." but the last time this happened...

_Error was the one that put a stop to the human and their antics, right? But with the destroyer restricted… dammit, they’re getting bold, aren’t they…?_

The guardian squeezed his sockets shut. _It's only a matter of time before the human starts up the genocides again. Stretch's gonna be pissed, and Nightmare..._

_Stars, what a fucking headache..._

"Blue, I think it would be best if you stayed in the Doodle Sphere for a while."

Predictably, the shorter skeleton shook his head. "This is my home, Dream! I have duties beyond the work I do for the Stars! Besides, if I spend all my time in the Doodle Sphere, Papy will turn our entire house into one big ashtray! His habits are _terrible,_ Dream, and it's up to me to keep him in line!"

How many times did they have this conversation? "The last thing I want to do is interfere with your personal life, Blue, but this... this is serious. What if another reset takes place and your memories don't return as quickly as they did today?"

"The human will do better this time! I'm sure... I'm sure they had a good reason for resetting." Doubt was clear in Blue's eyes, but his smile persisted. "They'll..."

"Do whatever they want to, Blue," Dream murmured. "I'm... sorry, but... there's no promising that they won't do this again, and I _need_ you, Blue. If you're constantly forgetting everything, or if something happens to the data you have stored here..." _If Nightmare makes it here and gets inside..._ "...Please just... think about it? Ink opened his home to you before. He won't mind if you borrow it again."

"Borrow it... again...?" Blue blinked once. Twice. Realization glittered on the third one. "He... isn't there."

Gently, Dream said, "He's stuck as a nightmare."

"B-but-!" Blue shook his head wildly. "D-Dream, if we're in the Doodle Sphere, what's stopping Ink from showing up, _as a nightmare?"_

The guardian hesitated. _Does his brother care about his enemy's secrets? Or is Ink trying to keep the Stars safe...? No... no it has to be Nightmare gloating about chaining Ink to his side. Right...?_

_Of course, it could be about more than that... it..._ "If that happens," he said slowly, "Then you and I will do what needs to be done, okay?"

Those wise, age-old eyes in the youthful expression captured Dream's attention. Slowly, the blue stars disappeared behind a closed sockets and a bowed head. "Okay. Let me... pack some things, first...?"

Dream's heart went out for him, it really did, but sacrifices had to made in situations like these. Still, resets... they were difficult to experience, weren't they? He... never experienced one for himself, but...

_When Ink looked from Blue's confused expression to Stretch, there was sympathy born from understanding where simple pity once resided. "We'll... come back later," he murmured, stepped back and pulling Dream with him by the hand. "It... it was nice meeting you, Blue!"_

_Unknowing of their established friendship, Blue grinned, "Nice meeting you too!"_

_The moment he and Ink were back in the Doodle Sphere, Dream whirled on the artist with a frown. "Ink, you said you wanted Blue for this mission! Why-"_

_"There was a reset."_

_"Yes, which means that we need to help Blue tap back into his memories!"_

_The artist shook his head, frowning as he fiddled with his vials. "We should... give them some time. Stretch mostly, I think. Resets..." Ink paused, symbols shifting to match every color he absently skimmed over, but never pulled to sip. "You know about Error's brothers, right?"_

_Dream... didn't know that, actually. He did his best to think about Error as little as possible. That was going to be difficult now though, what with the knowledge that the **destroyer** had kin out there. Stars, he wasn't going to be able to sleep at night. "I... don't."_

_"Oh, I thought I told you... Well, Error has brothers! Two of them! One is Fresh-"_

_Dream choked._

_"-Well, kinda? He was almost a Fresh, but something went weird so he's only kind of a Fresh? I have notes! ...Somewhere. Anyways, the other is a genocide Sans! Um, **The** Genocide Sans, actually... I only met him a few times, but..." Fingers curled around the vial of blue. Ink barely dipped his tongue into the glass, yet what little he ingested brought tears to his eyes. "Ru talks to him on the phone a lot, you know? Heh, he's a huge worry wart. Ru, not Geno. Oh! Geno is Ruru's brother's name! Because-"_

_"Ink, please get to the point."_

_"...Ru worries a lot. Geno... he has nightmares. Not all the time, but enough that Ru likes to check up on him in the mornings. Sometimes, Geno calls first and... and I can hear him. The things he says about resets..." Self consciously, Ink fiddled with his scarf; his life line when it came to remembering most things. "...Everyone but you forgets... everything. W-well, not everything, but... but the things the human does. They could murder, steal, torture... and it's all forgotten by everyone other than you. It... it makes you feel alone. Insane. And most Sans experience it at least a few times in their life."_

_Voice lowering, Ink met Dream's gaze with a solemn expression. His symbols were still blue. "Error's brother experienced it **hundreds** of times, Dream. And it gave him nightmares. Terrible nightmares that make him scream like he's being murdered...again. I... don't know how many Stretch has lived through, but... but if it's even a few, then he should have some time with his brother to readjust."_

"Blue," Dream called, "It... wouldn't be too much trouble if your brother wanted to join you. Just... make sure he doesn't get into anything?"

Blue stared as if Dream summoned Ink out of his ass. "You... you're letting Stretch hop AUs...?"

"Strictly speaking, the Doodle Sphere isn't really an AU, it's-"

"Going to stink like Papy's bad habit!" Blue pulled back slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Well... if it's the Doodle Sphere and not our house... no! But it's still a bad habit!" He groaned.

Smiling a little, Dream said, "Once we get them back, Ink'll probably rebuild it again. You know he likes to do that. And this way, you and Stretch can stay together still, and Stretch can experience something new," _for once,_ "And we can move your equipment to someplace safer."

Doubt crept back into the smaller's expression. "You're sure Nightmare won't burst in? You're sure he won't send someone else to come in...?"

_No._ "Yes. And if he does, we'll be ready, okay?"

Nodding, the smaller ran back inside to collect Stretch and some bags for their stay.

For their sake, Dream hoped it wasn't too long...

_...What am I even doing...?_ He wondered, sighing as his wait for Stretch and Blue began collecting minutes. _Renting out the Doodle Sphere, of all places?_

It was true that Ink offered his original home to Blue from time to time when meetings ran long, but... opening it to Stretch as well? Who absolutely _loathed_ Ink? That was... stupid. Really, really stupid.

And yet...

_...That idiot really wouldn't mind._ Ink had rules concerning the Doodle Sphere: Don't touch any of representations for the AUs, and don't ruin his paintings. As long as you followed those, as well as a few others, he didn't mind opening his haven to those he trusted to follow them. Stretch was still a wild card, but Blue wasn't. _He'll keep his brother in line._

And hopefully, they could all avoid a confrontation with _Dream's._


	45. Worn Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream learns that it's hard to muster up positivity when you've had such a long day.

At last, Stretch and Blue made themselves comfortable in the Doodle Sphere. Dream made sure to refresh them of the rules and what rooms they could have in the meantime. The Papyrus rolled his eyes and slouched onto the couch while Blue made himself busy setting up his equipment.

_Another potential problem for another day..._ Dream sighed, hand resting on his satchel. The Trimordial book and the apple were still in his bag, and he still had a few hours left before coming back. And after a nearly too-long mental argument, Dream decided to try and nab some more research.

By visiting Reapertale.

When he stepped through the portal, he was... surprisingly underwhelmed. 

There was no denying the fact that this world was one of great beauty. The tall, almost imposing trees all around him, the vibrant greens and colorful flora... Dream stood in the midst of gardener's wet dream, no pun intended, yet what he saw was only a mere fraction of the wonder this realm had to offer. There was more beauty to yet be seen, he knew, but... but there was a strange sense of certainty within him when he took a look around just to think, _Pretty... but I've seen better. _And yet, he couldn't pinpoint any worlds that could compare to the vibrant beauty surrounding him.

Either way, the world seemed nice. Lovely and befitting those of high status such as Reaper- 

_Reaper..._

Dream clenched his jaw and set forward. Every AU seemed to have their version of a Library, right? Hopefully Reapertale was no different...

"Let's see..." he mumbled, absently fiddling with the flap of his satchel. "I'm... north? No, the sun is that way so... east...?" Or... did that not matter? Not every world followed the same rules when it came to things like this. "I... have absolutely no idea where I'm meant to be."

Feeling a little silly just standing around dumbly, Dream took a chance and went off in a random direction. _I see... another forest? No, a... garden? Not Tori's though,_ he thought absentmindedly, narrowing his eyes at the forest-possibly-a-garden in the distance. _Is__ Asgore's residence surrounded by any greenery...?_ If so, as a king with a castle, he would have a library, right? "It can't hurt to check, I suppose..."

Nodding in agreement to his own question and continuing forward with determination, the golden eyed guardian kept an eye out for any sign of a castle... or trouble. _Does Reapertale have enemies...?_

He paused, concerned. _Does... **Reaper** have enemies...?_ So far, the world seemed peaceful. Calm, beautiful.... Definitely regal. It would have made a good home for everyone, wouldn't it? _Why didn't they stay here then?_

Something tickled in his mind. Something about Death being clingy...

_Ink suddenly froze and looked over, "WAIT, REAPS-!"_

_But Dream was already holding his hand, fingers lanced between the god’s longer ones. The guardian glanced over at Ink, completely unaware. "What?"_

_The four husbands all seemed to be wide awake in that moment, staring at Dream's hand clasped in Reaper's. "D-Dream?" When the guardian gave him a look, Reaper slowly let himself relax. "Wow... heh, I was so used to being able to touch people here that I forgot..."_

_"What? You forgot-?" Dream glanced at everyone, frowning. "Alright, what the hell did I miss?"_

The guardian smiled a little bit. _Death's touch... and somehow I'm immune..._ Though even that happy memory was faded, and the corners of his grin tilted down slightly. _Surely that would make enemies... albeit unintentionally_.

Worried now, he took another look around, his hand falling to his side and fiddling with the latch to his satchel. "Poor Reapsy," he murmured, feeling the outline of the precious golden treasure pressing into the cloth of his bag. _Have others clung to their unreasonable hatred of you...?_

Head aching, Dream sighed and shook himself from his thoughts. Stars, he needed a nap. And a library. That's what he was meant to be looking for, after all. He could think about Reaper and the others when they're back home safe, and maybe this book was a way to do it...? Stars, Dream didn't even know... he was just grasping at straws now, wasn't he? Pulling the pieces from multiple pictures in the hopes of fitting them together into something he could use. Maybe the book would help, or maybe it was a gigantic waste of time.... he wasn't sure.

"Maybe... maybe there's a clue...?"

Feeling a little desperate for _something,_ he undid the latch on his satchel and dug around for the book. With only two items tucked away, finding it wasn't all that difficult, yet a small issue made itself known when pulling the book free caused the apple to tumble out. _Shit-!_

Lunging forward, Dream caught the shimmering fruit with a tense smile. "I have enough things to worry about, you know?" he mumbled, bringing the apple to his chest with a sigh. "The last thing I need is to lose you."

Unsurprisingly, the fruit didn't answer him. He was starting to believe any voices he ever heard from the damn thing were dreams. Or insanity.

"Whatever, I have things to do, so..." Carefully, he tucked the apple back where it belonged, though his hand ended up remaining curled around it, just in case. "There. Now, onto the castle."

If he remembered correctly, he had to go North.

After finding his bearings once again, he dropped his gaze to the book and opened it with the one hand, letting the movement of his stride turn the pages. He stopped them every so often to soak up more half-legible sentences and catch glimpses of what was sure to be an epic tale of magic. Of battles and souls and the origin of the multiverse! Or at least the origin of _something,_ right?

The damned thing was so corrupted with those angry marks and blotches that it was hard to get the full gist of what the writer was intending. And the generally cheerful, narrator tone of the words completely contradicted the darkness that stained much of the pages.

And all the names.

Dream squinted down at it. Stars, why were the names gone...? Sighing, he snapped the book shut and looked up, stopping just short of running into the building he was looking for.

It was... definitely frowned upon to enter a king's castle without permission, wasn't it? Sure, his position as a Star and the Guardian of Positivity granted him some leeway here and there, but a king was still a king. And this one? It was the king of the _gods._

"...He... doesn't have to know...?"

Before he could think twice, Dream made his way inside of the castle... through a window. _Trespassing. Stars, if Ink could see me now..._ his heart clenched, but the pain went ignored.

If Ink could see him now, he'd get them both caught by laughing at the sight of Dream breaking the rules.

_Not that I haven't done so before..._ just, not when there was a god he risked upsetting. Asgores were usually kind though, correct? _Usually._ If he got caught... _Just... don't just caught, idiot. You're already inside, so all you have to do is make it to the east wing library._

_....it.... **was** in the east, right?_

Welp, no time to worry about that!

The guardian shoved his book back in the satchel, making sure to lock it tightly. On another thought, he shortened the strap too, then made his way to where he was nearly certain of the library.

This had to be it, right...? Well, there wasn't exactly a sign saying "Library, this way!" which would've been too convenient, though immensely helpful. At the sound of steps, Dream jumped behind a statue. He stayed still, listening to the steps retreat before jumping back into his... breaking and entering. For information...

Somehow, Dream had this feeling he was either going to get into a lot of trouble with the residents of this place, or he wasn't going to find what he's looking for. In the hopes of changing at least one of those things, he made the rest of the trip as carefully and silently as he could.

Sometimes, one's best efforts simply weren't enough though.

As he turned the final corner and crept to the doorway of the library, Dream relaxed slightly, but kept his attention on the hall his trespassing was now based in. _No one to my right, or left..._ Blindly, he reached for the handle of the door and pulled it open, stepping through. _Okay, I think I'm cle-_

Surprise.

From right in _front_ of him.

_Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me._

"Oh- oh! Hello....!"

_An Alphys... at least, the Goddess. But of what...?_

The yellow dinosaur monster stood there, fidgeting slightly as she watched Dream. "You... you're- I m-mean, the _Guardian_ of Positivity, a-aren't you...? What are you doing here? H-has it something t-to do with Lor- I-I mean Ink...?"

Dream's sockets narrowed, his golden eyelights sharpening at the minor slips in the familiar yet unfamiliar god's sentence. _I'm... what? She wasn't going to say guardian. Not at first, at least. And Ink...?_

What was she going to say before his name? _Lor.. Ink...?_

"...What the hell is a 'Lo-rink'?" he questioned, unintentionally speaking outside of his mind.

"A k-kink is a..." the goddess looked to be a little flustered. "A-a... a f-quirk...? Of a sexual m-matter...?"

Startled, Dream sputtered, "What?! No! I... I know what a damned _kink_ is!"

A bright blush spread across her face. "Y-you...? Have-?"

"S-stop that! I, no! Y-yes? Th-that's not why I'm here dammit!"

Alphys looked immensely relieved. "It's about what's i-in your satchel, c-correct?"

At the sight of sharp, near-blinding golden eyes drilling holes into her skull, Alphys squeaked. Before she could do more than stutter a few vowels, however, Dream was stepping into her space, sockets narrowed. "How did you know that?" he questioned softly. Dangerously.

"I... I..." Clearly nervous, the goddess stumbled back a few steps. Dream followed. "I-it's just, um, it... i-it just comes n-naturally! I..." Trying to pull herself together, Alphys straightened. "Alphys, G-goddess of Knowledge, a-at your service."

Knowledge...? "And what exactly does that entail?" he questioned, seeking clarification for this new piece of information. _Death seems... simple in comparison._ There were many ways for someone to meet their end, but death was death. Knowledge? So much could fall under such a vague title. "You... what? Know everything?"

"I... I know... e-enough...?" Whatever expression he wore added to the little yellow goddess' nerves. Dream tried putting on a mask of emotionless calm, yet that only seemed to unnerve her more. "I k-know more than w-what most people are, uh, c-comfortable with... a-and more than I'm a-allowed to share, if you, um, if you were g-going to ask for... anything."

Dream narrowed his sockets slightly. "What do you mean 'what you're allowed to share'? If you're Knowledge, shouldn't you be able to share just about anything?"

"N-not quite...? There a-a-are some subjects I c-cannot t-talk about-?"

"Like?"

Alphys froze, hesitating. There were... quite a few she shouldn't talk about. The book, the apple, the origin... whatever was floating in Dream's mind was likely questions she couldn't answer.

Swallowing to ease the dryness of her throat, she smiled nervously. Apologetically. "I... I c-can't really answer t-that either... I w-would!" she hurried to add at Dream's scowl. "I _c-can't_ though. People... u-um, sometimes knowledge leads to... d-disaster, so... so I'm sorry, but it's better you don't know!" And although Dream watched her with doubt, Alphys _knew_ her words were true.

Knowledge... her concept was just as dangerous as War, or Death. Often, it led to both. Mortals proved that time and time again, and though Dream was... Well, even he was better off in the dark, for now. The last thing she wanted was to be the one responsible for influencing his actions. Stars, if she messed up and _he_ found out about it...

Alphys may have been unnerved by a lot of people, but he was definitely one she _feared._

"Is there _anything_ you can tell me?" Dream asked, frustrated.

"T-trust your g-gut!"

They stared at each other. Long, hard looks that had Alphys shivering harder in her lab coat. Soon, sweat was pooling in her hands, and she was desperately drying them off with a nearby towel.

Thinking back to the grey child, Dream couldn't help but wonder, _Was that a fucking pun...?_ But he wasn't sure. His experience with the Alphys of any other worlds were severely limited. He had no idea if she enjoyed puns like most Sanses did.

Sighing, he glanced around the library. "Can you point me in the direction of the myths and legends section...?"

"...U-um..."

_If she says no I swear I'm going to screa-_ "Oh," Dream murmured, eyelights on the trembling finger pointing to his left. "Thank you."

"N...no probelm," Alphys whispered, not much confidence left within her to add any volume to her voice. "I h-have a meeting, s-so if you need a-anything... u-um, there's a directory o-on the back wall!"

"Oh." That was useful. "Thanks."

"T-thank you f-for your thanks!"

_Thanks for my...?_ Chuckling a bit, Dream offered the goddess a smile kinder than he was to her and an apologetic look for his rudeness. With that, he did her a favor and got out of her scales, amused by the sigh of relief that reached his ears before he turned the corner around a shelf of books and scrolls. _Okay, lets see what I can learn on my own-_

Coming to an abrupt pause, Dream stared.

There was only three books and a single scroll in the section.

"You're kidding right...?" though nobody was around, Dream couldn't help but voice his annoyance aloud. Where were all the books? This wall used to be _filled! _Honestly, waiting rooms had more content than this.

He sighed. It was either this library and it's obviously quick research, or try searching the multiverse for a more full library to do research in.

_I need to get back to the kids..._ He sighed again and pulled all four of the materials onto an empty table. After a short debate, he unraveled the scroll and started to read.

It wasn't extremely long, but the information provided was thick with detail; all of which was absolutely useless to him. The legends within were interesting, but none of it matched up with the unmarred portions of the book in his satchel. They were just... stories.

_So is the book though,_ he thought with a heavy sigh. As interesting as the blocked out names made it, all the thick book was in the end was a fairytale for children. "Why am I wasting my time with this...?"

His lack of answer didn't keep him from cracking open the first of the books. Much like the scroll, it was full of fairytales, though the book only seemed to contain four long ones rather than a series of short tales. They were... kind of interesting. A little dark in some places, but it would make good reading material for the children, especially Goth who was advancing quite a bit in that subject. _I'll just... borrow this for a bit._

Mood improved slightly but lacking hope of finding anything of true worth, Dream grabbed a second book at random out of the two options. This one was thin, more like a folder full of paper than a novel. It was bound like a book though, and when he opened it nothing fell out of place.

"The first page is blank...?" Strange, but maybe there was a reason?

Shrugging, Dream carefully slipped a fingertip under the corner of the aged paper and flipped. "...Another empty page...?" After a little more searching, he finally found one that wasn't left blank... an entire ten pages into the thin book. "That's not an annoying way to create a book at...all..." his words trailed into silence.

He knew this writing. How could he not, after all? The penmanship was slightly off, but...

It was hard to forget the way you shaped your own letters.

Desperately, Dream tried to figure out when he'd written something like this, and why his past self was such an asshole about starting this. He traced the script that was so much prettier than what he usually wrote with, but, _that's my hand writing,_ kept resonating within him. Finally looking past the scripture and towards the words, he started reading... what is this...?

_He's so...! I don't know! But he kept taking the first one so now I have to trick him with this one! It... isn't nice, but maybe if I start on **this** page rather than the first...?_

Oh buddy... Dream smiled a little. That sounded like a crush or a sibling...

_A crush or a **sibling,** huh...?_

Smile faltering, Dream read over the rest of the page. The tone was... light. Innocent in a way he couldn't recall himself being for... _centuries_ now. There was a naivety in his script that added a sweet, slightly naive influence to the words written so carefully. _How young was I when I wrote this...?_

More importantly, why did the _gods_ of Reapertale have his... diary?

_Um, I'm still not sure what I ought to write in this... Oh! I know! I'll tell you about my day! I tried telling brother, but he said he didn't need to hear about my day if he was there for most of it... I suppose that's true, but he's the only other one who isn't busy! And I did things without him, like... well, I can't think of anything at the moment but I'm sure I did something! I'm very independent! ...No matter what, N-_

_ **No matter what I say? My, my... it's rather rude of you to write about me in this, dear little... brother. Why didn't you finish my name though, I wonder? Oh yes, because I snatched this away from you.** _

_ **Serves you right before being a gossip.** _

Magic froze in Dream's bones, though some part of him wanted to laugh. This brother...? He really was petty enough to write in my- in _this_ diary.

_I need.... I need to read this later..._ Dream snuck it beneath his book and reached for the last book.

His mind was already rattled when he opened the heavy, leather-bound book, he was expecting beautiful scripture, maybe words with no meanings covering every page. A part of him expected a repeat of the previous book, and have several blank pages.

What he wasn't expecting were sketches of... backgrounds...?

_Ink's are better,_ was his first thought upon seeing the artwork, though guilt trailed after the thought with a quick pace. _That's... not right._ If he were here, Ink would admonish him for such thinking. Art wasn't easy, and comparisons between artists was just... unfair. _I can hear his lecture now..._

And yet, there was a traitorous part of his brain that still made little comparisons. _Ink's art is so much more refined._ The shading, the perspective, the sloppiness of some lines... they all made for a lovely sketch of an open field, but none of them were at Ink's level.

None of them were _Ink's_, and maybe it was that and that alone that made him so harsh.

All the same, Dream flipped through the book, seeing the development. Again, the comparison stayed, though this time, he could hear Ink starting to take the piece apart, maybe complimenting the way that tree was colored, or the way this cave looked so much deeper than the paper, or the empty white space around that single person...

Dream blinked and squinted at that last image. It was strange... the guardian wasn't used to really feeling anything when witnessing a drawing, even though he knew that's what art was for. But, the sense of loneliness in this last one hit Dream hard. _It's because I feel the same... he reasoned._

But he wasn't able to put it back.

When he made it back to his room in the Doodle Sphere, he made sure to hide the sort of diary and the sketchbook somewhere that Stretch couldn't possibly _stumble_ over it. But now? It was time to go back home to the kids.

_With still more questions than answers..._

———

Paperjam was the first to greet him upon arrival, the little bow carefully taped to her skull hinting the subtle shift that took place during Dream's absence. _How long have I been gone for...?_

"Dunkle!" Paperjam cried, a smile on her face. "You came back! You really came back, even though you were gone for... _forever!"_ As was common now, the little girl peer around him with hope in her smile. "Did...?" Her eyes were met with empty air behind Dream.

PJ's smile dropped.

Before tears could fill her eyes, Dream kneeled, murmuring, "Paperjam, sweetheart, what did we talk about before...?"

"...You and m'uncles leave for work..." Paperjam recited, gaze lowering and averting from Dream's sad gaze. "...N-not... not to bring mine or Gothy's mamas and papas back..."

_Stars, I'm trying honey..._

What does researching **legends** have to do with trying to get them back...?!

_Change the subject, change the subject,_ "Jammy, were you and Gothy good for Uncles Spright and Respite?"

The light of joy doesn't return to Paperjam's eyes, but she nods. "Yeah..." she mumbled, prodding at the rug beneath her feet with slow, sulky motions. "Do we get juice...?"

"Have either of your uncles already given you some?"

As if weighed down by the weight of the entire multiverse, PJ's little shoulders slumped. "...Yeah."

Dream smiled regretfully. "Sorry then, honey. I'm really proud of you and your brother for being good, but you're only allowed so much juice in one day. It's the rules, remember?" A cluster of foul emotions made itself known within the little skeleton. From experience, Dream knew that it often meant a tantrum, or a fit of tears. "You can have an extra glass for breakfast tomorrow morning, okay? A _big_ person's glass."

"...And Gothy?"

"He'll get just as much juice, don't worry."

Solemnly, PJ nodded before peering curiously at Dream's satchel. "Gifts?"

"Hey now, how can they be gifts if I give them without wrapping them first?"

PJ stared up at him in confusion. "They have to be wrapped...? No! Silly, they don't have to be wrapped!"

Considering Dream didn't bring anything for the kids back home... "Come on honey, let's go inside ok?"

Paperjam squinted with a sour expression, unsure if she was correct in assuming that Dream was attempting to distract her. After a moment, she shrugged with a smile. "Okay, daddy," she chirped, mimicking the noises Goth often made to the best of her ability.

Dream smiled as he followed behind her. "So, how was your... day..." Voice trailing off into a whisper, he froze.

_Da... daddy...?_

Perhaps unaware of her... mistake? Stars, was it a mistake? Either way, Paperjam didn't seem entirely aware of what she said and continued on with a smile.

"It was fun! Dunkle Spright took us out shopping at the mall!"

"Fun huh?"

"Gothy and I shared a soft pretzel then we went into this colorful store with a buncha stuff in it! But Dunkle Spright told us to stay with him because the back half of the store wasn't okay for kids." PJ made a face and looked up at Dream. "Why do people buy and sell penises, daddy?"

An unpleasant familiarity arose within Dream when he realized that, frozen as he was, he probably resembled a statue. _She... she did it again... Not just that, but... "What kind of store did your uncle_ take you to, sweetie?" he asked weakly.

Paperjam hummed in thought, "Uh... I dunno! But- hey," she whined, "You didn't answer my question!"

Damnit. "They're... toys, hon. For adults."

"Grown ups play with penises?"

"Y-yes...." _Please stop asking me questions, please stop asking me questions, please-_

"Why?"

_Fucking dammit..._ "Well...." _Are you too young to learn about this...? Is it okay that I tell you this now...?_ Dream stared at PJ, trying to figure this all out on the spot. "S-sometimes, adults think it's fun. For... sexy reasons."

Instantly, Paperjam's expression turned to one of disgust, and she let it go. "What's for dinner?"

_Oh thank the stars._

Hopefully, dodging Paperjam's questions would be the last of his troubles for the day.

_If I'm really lucky, this will be the last thing I have to worry about for the next **month.**_


	46. Killjoy Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which morality doesn't matter, for even those with blood on their hands are prone to suffering... and cute petnames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW**: Self-harm, auditory hallucinations

Tucked into the darkest corner of his room with his skull clutched between his hands, Killer tried to block out the invasive thoughts in his head. _Shut up... shut up... shutupshutupshutupshutup...!_

For a moment, he thought he'd be fortunate enough to earn some piece. Hesitantly, hopefully, he peeked open his sockets, though he was well aware that there were no faces to pair with his thoughts. Just voi-

Pathetically, he whimpered at the sight of his own SOUL. The shape was all wrong.

_Wrong... wrong, wrong, wrong... just like you, you fucking **murderer.**_ A voice hissed within his skull. _Dirty fucking brother **Killer.**_

Shuddering, Killer shut his eyes again. When the door to his room opened and familiar, heavy steps headed towards him, he still didn't open them. He didn't want to see his SOUL.

"...You already need another... appointment...?"

_Gonna slash at him too, **Killer**?_ The voice mocked when he instinctive bristled. "Y-you... you know Night hasn't been keepin' up with them as much lately, H. He's too busy playin' with his new fucking toys."

"Ain't all that new anymore."

"No... it ain't...." Killer still kept himself hidden from Horror, shivering against the thoughts that taunted at blood over his hands and Horror's surprised expression. _Kill him, kill him, kill him, it's all you're good for-_

_You're useless without death on your hands and in your SOUL. Useless useless uselessuselessuselessuseless!!_

"It's worse this time around," Horror murmured, sitting by him. "Isn't it?"

_uselessuselessuselessuselessuseless KILL HIM!!!_

"Yes..."

"If he brings you in for an appointment, you're not going to remember feeling like this."

"I know..." Was it even a mercy at this point? To forget? Or would it be more merciful to let Killer remember how to deal with these?

An arm slid around his shoulders and gently tugged him out of the corner. Not too far from it thankfully, but just enough so that he could curl into the dust scented warmth of his...

Viciously, he tore through those thoughts. Here, attachments were dangerous, so Horror wasn't anything more than a tentative ally at best. At worst, he was just another nightmare in this castle full of fuckery.

"Think you can hide it today?" Horror murmured, the words ticklish as teeth skimmed over the top of his skull. Gentle.

Once, Killer saw Horror bite through the vertebra of a skeleton's neck. "Dumbass. Y'know my SOUL can't be hidden." No matter what he wore, it always settled in front of his sternum.

"I know." It was said with a sigh. If Killer were into romantic fantasies, he would've described Horror's sigh as longing. But this was his reality. Any affection he and Horror may have towards each other was fleeting. It... it _needed_ to be... because if **he**-

_Kill kill kill killkillkillkill**killkillkill!!!**_

Killer shrunk into himself a little more and growled shakily. "M'fine."

Horror muttered, "As fine as this place allows us to be, huh?"

"Yeah."

The small chuckles they exchanged were bitter at best, so different than the crazed laughter that so often tore itself from their throats in the thick of battle. _Heh, we're pretty fucked up, aren't we?_ They had their reasons, but...

Well, what did that matter? Bad guys meant having bad reasons, and they were both long passed the point of deserving sympathy. In all honesty, neither of them wanted it any more.

_Liar. You'd give an arm and leg if it meant poor ole Pappy would forgive you. Oh, wait... tehehe~_ Killer grit his teeth and pressed his face into Horror's shoulder. He fucking hated it when he heard Chara's voice. _The dead don't forgive, do they~?_

"So," he said a little too loudly, "is there supposed to be a fancy dinner today, or do can we get away with snatching food from the kitchen?"

"Fancy dinner," Horror rumbled. "To discuss the artist's mission, and the god and Error some more. Maybe something about the glitch."

_The pregnant one. The destroyer's brother. The doll._

_We're all his toys, Kills~ Teehee, you're just as easy to manipulate as the others. Easier! You're so easy-_

Killer hissed, "M'not goin'."

"Kills-"

_"No!_ You... can't make me."

Horror frowned a little more. "You're gonna get yourself in trouble if ya don't go."

"Gonna lose my damned head- my..." he shook his head roughly and whispered, "Gets too dark... the appointments. _No,_ H."

"...Kills."

Stars, he hated that fucking tone. That soft, <strike>caring</strike> stupid voice filled with something even dumber, as if Killer <strike>deserved</strike> wanted Horror's fucking <strike>concern</strike> meddling. "No, H. I said no, and I... fuck, I don't really have a choice, do I?"

Thankfully, Horror didn't voice the obvious. _Of course you don't. None of us do._ "Just... put on your happy face, Kills-"

Killer flinched, though he tried his hardest not to.

_"Y'know, your name doesn't really fit anymore, does it?"_

_"Whatcha mean?"_

_"Sans... you're not really like you used to be anymore. You don't really seem like... Sans. Like you." Crimson eyes glittered in amusement. "I'm gonna rename you~"_

_"Ugh, fuck off. Knowing you, you'll just call me... Fluffy."_

_"Tempting~ but nah, I have a new name in mind for ya~"_

_He eyed his partner warily, knife slicing across his palm as he fumbled a twirl. Shit, and he thought he was getting better at handling it, too. "Okay... shoot."_

_Chara held a hand out with a grin. "Greetings, Killer."_

"...It's a real bad day for ya, isn't it, Kitten?" Horror murmured, smile a small, private thing when Killer's cheeks warmed at the replacement for his name.

A small nod was answer enough. Not like either of them could hope to fix it in time for the dinner. This was something their boss spent years meddling with, and it would likely take years longer to undo it all, if it could even be done.

If they could even leave...

Killer stared down at the bedding, barely audible, "Those four... they're idiots for letting themselves get attached like that."

Horror studied him with a small tilt to his head, and that little smile still in place. "Are they?"

"They are!" He insisted with a hiss. "It's a weakness. It's...! It...!"

"Keeps coming back despite those appointments...?"

Killer shot him a dark look. _Don't._ "H, there isn't-"

"An us? Yeah. Just coworkers and roommates. With sexy benefits." Horror sighed and leaned against the wall.

Ruthlessly, Killer trampled any good he felt towards the other, or in general. Even as the remorse bubbled up. "It's just sex. To relieve the boredom and the pressure."

"....yeah..."

They exchanged glances for the slightest of moments. _It isn't..._

_KILL HIM NOW, KILLER!!_

Killer whipped his head away and back into his hands, clawing desperately. _SHUT UP....! Goawaygoawaygoaway.....!!!_

Hands caught his own and pulled them away from his skull, the grip tight to prevent him from yanking himself out of the hold. "Easy, Kitten. We ain't got much healing cream left."

Warmth dribbled down over his clenched sockets. "I'm not the big idiot too slow to dodge the rookie's sword during practice."

"No, but you're the dumbass who rolled onto a knife in his sleep." His chin was coaxed up to allow the other skeleton a new angle to view the scratches on his head. "Won't scar if we take care of them now."

"Leave it," he hissed. What was a few more scars, anyways?

_Crimson eyes, so similar to Chara's in color but shaped differently. Symbols. Angry, angry symbols that scorched him with their hate as the so-called Protector brought his whip down on him again and again and again and again..._

_"You hurt my husband," Ink snarled, voice as sharp as the crack of the whip. "You fucking made him bleed!"_

_Killer laughed hoarsely._ Yeah, well, he ain't special in that regard, _he thought with a bloody smile._

The scars hidden beneath his shirt stung with phantom pain. "What's a few more to add to the collection?" he mumbled.

Horror sighed, "You get any more major scars like this you're gonna have problems with your magic, Kitten."

"So?"

The already tight grip tightened further when Horror growled. It was merely a frustrated sound, but Killer could guess at the <strike>sweet</strike> stupid thoughts in the other's head.

Killer pushed harder, "Dust had the right idea when he-"

This time, Horror yanked Killer into his arms and held on tightly. "He was _murdered,_ Kit."

He fought against the bigger's girth and grip, snarling, "Let go! Let go you fat dumbass!"

"No."

"It's only a m-matter of time before i-it's us...!"

"..."

Killer pushed against Horror once more, struggling to free himself before sagging into him and gripping his sullied, overly large jacket and hiding inside as much as he could. "It's.... It isn't....!"

"You're right."

"Fair..." Killer whimpered. "Why...?"

_"Killer, hmm...? For a Sans so young, you've got quite the reputation across the multiverse already," came the dark purr of promise. "What say you work with me.... you'll not be controlled by your human any longer. You'll be allowed your own place, so long as you do some jobs for me when I call for you."_

At the time, the tendrils stroking his face and the poisoned words meant nothing to him. Nothing further than getting away from Chara. To get away from the one that crafted him this way. That pushed him past the pacifist protector he was meant to be.

_Tch... protectors...._

Not even their boss was here to protect them. _Memories of tendrils wrapping around him and Horror, yanking him out of the paths of arrows and bones and paint..._ Wasn't that protection...? Wasn't this _home_ protection?

Again, those crimson targets and the burning sting of that whip came to mind.

_Fuck... my head hurts so much..._ so he hid his face in Horror's chest.

"You're gonna get your eyeshit on me," Horror murmured, but he didn't pull away, nor did he loosen his hold on the shorter skeleton. "I should just start wearin' black. Less stains to clean."

There was a hand rubbing at his back. Without twisting around to look, Killer knew that the warm palm was large, and that all the phalanges connected to it were thick, yet surprisingly short. _He could slide his hand down and snap my spine in two right now._ Despite the affects of starvation that scarred Horror, there was a strength that came from cannibalization and hefting around a heavy hatchet all the time.

If he were in the mood, Killer would have fondled the ribs he could feel beneath Horror's clothing. A bit of groping, a sharp nip at a specific vertebrae, and Horror would toss him over his shoulder like a sack of flour until he found the surface he wanted to fuck him against that night.

Stars, how easy would dealing with this shit be if he was horny? But he wasn't, and the only heat to his thoughts was born from spite. _Fucking and killing, that's all you're good for, bitch._

He didn't have the energy to argue.

"When do we have to get ready?"

A deep vibration came from the other's chest. A hum. "Now. I gotta start cookin' and boss doesn't have anything for you to do."

_Fuck..._ Killer pulled away slightly and stared up at him.

Horror glanced back and nodded once. "Sure. The knives there probably need sharpening." _You can hang out in the kitchen until dinner's ready._

"They always need sharpening...." _Thanks._

The kiss they shared was meaningless, of course.

But if it _wasn't..._

_Anytime, Kitten._

———

By the time their good ole buddy Error showed his face alongside his husbands, Killer was sporting a wide smile that felt as fake as the polite tone Crossy used to suck up to the boss. "No doll?" he teased, itching for a fight. Anything to break up the chaos in his head. 

Predictably, Error shot him a glare. Even less surprising than that was the low warning tone used to speak his name that came from Cross. _He has to be fucking them. _Why else would the guard constantly jump to their defense?

But something was... off. The artist.

_He's weak now. He's weak. **W e a k.**_

_Kill him. Kill. Take revenge. He's right there...!_

Killer watched the artist nearly stumble into his chair between the husbands. It was a subtle slip, but something a predator would notice of his prey. No obvious wounds leaked marrow nor magic, but something had weakened him. Something.... He picked up his knife, fidgeting with the blade as his empty dripping stare bore into the artist's averted gaze.

Darkness gathered under the artist's sockets, similar to his deathly husband, though different all the same. Exhaustion, though rumor had it he was asleep for several days after his mission.

_ **W e a k** _

"Ah, so it's an artist doll, is it?"

Ink flicked that dull gaze to Killer, narrowing his target lights on the other. "What was that...?"

"Ya heard me, Princess."

A soft nudge of knee against knee and Horror murmuring, "Kit, cool it," under his breath almost made him pause.

"I'd be no different than the _Killer_ puppet Nightmare claims then," Ink muttered back. "Because aren't we all just toys in the end?"

A chill shot down Killer's spine. _Wrong._

Not Ink's statement, but the fact that it was the artist saying the words to begin with. _He's supposed to fight back. I piss him off, he snaps back... not this bullshit._ His smile cut across his face. "Where's your energy, Inky? Did Crossy fuck it outta ya? Or the god?" Beneath the able, Horror nudged him again. Rather than calm him, it fed the desperate anger within him. _You've been interfering in fights a lot lately, H,_ he thought.

It was his own insecurity that spoke to him then, _Does he like one of them? If so, which one?_ The artist wasn't really horror's type, but neither was Error. The god? The dead eyed glitch? _They talked once, during the ball Night held._

"Heh..." his stomach rolled with the negativity he was starved for. This emotion, he knew well. <strike>Fear</strike> Jealousy, though he was right to feel so. _Horror always did the like nice ones. Kind eyes, gentle smiles..._

_Nothing **you** are, Killer. Nothing you’ve ever been._

"I'd ask if Error was the one that did ya good..." he was numb to his own words, "...but we all know that he prefers being the one that gets fucked."

"Like you?" surprisingly, it was Ink's words that reached Killer first, even as all the others tensed. Not that the words were full of fire. They sounded as numb as the drippy eyed skeleton felt. But it was enough to make the heat within him grow just slightly more.

_"Slice and dice and cut. Oh, how nicely the bones part. How sweet screams follow...."_

_"What, you a poet now, kid?"_

_"It was pretty good wasn't it?" they giggled. "Perfect for your little brother-!"_

"Heard stories of the artist. We all did. While we were here, you were off having orgies. Cocks shoved into whatever orifices they could reach," Killer twirled the knife. _Sink it in his eyes! Make him bleed! Rip out his spine!_

Sounding unnaturally bored, Ink asked, "Were you offering?"

Horror bristled, shooting a warning look at Ink. Who ignored it.

"Why bring it up if you weren't offering?"

"Ink," Error muttered at him. "Stop it."

"What are you doing...?" Reaper whispered.

Ink stared at Killer. Truthfully, the artist hadn't blinked. Hadn't really looked away. He could sense the shitstorm brewing beneath the other's bones. "You're trying to provoke me. It's just going to get you in trouble when you piss _boss_ off."

_Kill him! Murder him, dust him, **DIE!!!**_

Gritting his teeth against the sharp stab in his mind, Killer sneered, "Am I? I thought I was making friends."

"If you wanna fight me so bad, ask Nightmare," Ink said.

"Ask me what?" said the man himself as he settled into his seat. Nobody at the table jumped. But neither the king nor the empath were blind to the sparks of surprise from each of the members. "Ah, Killer. Trying to befriend our little Inkblot, are we?"

"Sure thing, boss. It's been a while since we had a _playdate."_

Horror grit his teeth slightly, the sound just barely audible to Killer.

Nightmare chuckled, "I suppose it has been... Unfortunately, the empath will have little time to entertain you this upcoming week, Killer. His schedule is filled, as will yours be."

_Who're you gonna kill this time, **Kills**? A Sans? A Papyrus? How many brothers are you going to tear through with your knife?_ He smiled. "Got some actual missions for us boss? Or am I gonna be sent dress shoppin' for your little doll?" Again.

All these weeks and yet the god was still shit at hiding his anger. Then again, mentioning the glitch was always the most effective way of getting a rise out of him. _This is why you don't love when you're a nightmare, dumbass._

The king of the castle hummed in thought. "He _could_ do with some new gowns. Even with the purchases you made last time, he's in need of a better fit in close. I'm afraid little Genocide is getting close to not being so little anymore. Don't you three agree, Error? God? Artist?"

"I heard they had a thing to help with that. They're called diets." He snickered. "Unless he's getting fat off of all the _chicken_ I'm sure he's been eating. I mean..." Grinning, he pointed at Ink.

_He doesn't look like he has enough will left in him to fight off a knife._

"One..." Next, he pointed to Error.

You have a knife strong enough to slash his threads.

"...Two...” Then Reaper.

Can't touch him, but if you're fast enough-

"...Three. Oh, but with Crossy and you boss, that's... Five." Horror squeezed his knee in warning. "Five cocks for the little doll to choke on. Sounds filling."

"That must make you starving," Ink responded easily. Reaper, bristling even more at Killer's words, managed to keep his temper. Barely. With a soft smirk from Ink's words.

So... not **quite** done fighting are ya? Killer sneered even as he growled.

Nightmare shut that down right away, "You dare to call your master a chicken, Killer...?"

Horror was quick to jump in, "If ya think about it boss, chickens are terrifying. They'll even eat their own young."

"Plenty of other animals do the same thing, Horror. Including you."

At once, Reaper and Ink looked at Horror in surprise. …Did Horror have kids...?

Horror narrowed his eyes slightly but fell silent again.

"My apologies for the interruption of this... lively conversation, my king, but may I ask if you have any words for us this evening? If not, then allow me to pour you some wine. Your favorite has been restocked."

Dutiful, ass-kissing Cross...

"Gonna pour me a drink too, Crossy?" Killer cooed.

Cross ignored him, eyes on Nightmare as he awaited the king's answer. "If you prefer another wine, then I'd be glad to run down to the cellar for you."

Nightmare raised a brow, amused, "Trying to win a favor, Cross? Or are you perhaps hoping for the chance to sneak off and... meet up with your little friend?"

Beneath the table, Horror gripped Killer's knee tightly. Not to warn the younger skeleton of danger it seemed, but out of... Killer's empty eyes narrowed. The fuck has you wound up in fright, H?

"Geno can wait," Cross murmured smoothly.

Nightmare's smile grew, "My, I wasn't expecting you to admit that you truly have grown attached to him. Perhaps my little white lie from before is no longer such a fib?"

To that, Cross suggested, "Perhaps it was never a white lie?"

"Ohoh?" Nightmare chuckled and tilted his empty glass to Cross. "Go ahead, Second."

As Cross rose to fill the King's favored drink, Killer observed him. And Error and Reaper and Ink of course, but. Cross... just what did that bastard do to earn his place as Second? If it were simply a paying job, Killer would be complaining about seniority rights to Horror. Though he would probably briefly remember Horror being there longer... either way-

Killer shook his head, trying to rid himself of that dull throbbing that screamed at him to _killkillkill_. Annoying. Like all these fucking pricks and this stupid warning hand on his knee and the fact that he was still alive-

He blinked, staring at his plate with a hand to his head. No... He wasn't suicidal. He.... no, he was fine. He was Killer not Die-r. Or Dying for that matter.

I'm Killer, and I'm fine. Just peachy.

His sockets strayed to one of the lighter looking wines. A peach one, funny enough. I'm just like this wine. Sweet, peachy, fine...

<strike>Horror's favorite....</strike>

Ink's and Nightmare's gaze snapped to Killer, who was very quick to shut down on that disgusting thought. "Do you feel unwell, Killer?" Nightmare asked with a thinly veiled threat.

"I'm hungry," came the sassy, moody response.

"I am too and, lucky for you, I don't have much to discuss beforehand. Empath," Nightmare turned his gaze away and started speaking-

Words that don't matter. It isn't food. It isn't a home away from this. It isn't a promise to end his suffering one way or another.

_ I don't care..._ Killer glowered. _I don't care I don't care I don't care **I don't care**... _

Fragments of conversation flowed all around him, but none of it reached his ears. Focused on his mantra, the dripping eyed skeleton was numb to everything but his own inner turmoil. When he began to eat, the taste of Horror's ever delicious meal barely registered to him.

_ I don't care, I don't care, I don't care! _

He never noticed the piercing emerald gaze watching him.

Horror did though, and yet none of his usual warnings for Killer worked. If I call his name and he doesn't answer... It'd only give Nightmare more of a reason to take an interest in Killer._ Damned if I do, damned if I don't. _

"Ki-"

"Killer," Nightmare drawled, "I can't help but notice that you're sitting rather oddly. You should straighten your spine out. Let people see your interesting SOUL."

"Like ya let others see yours, boss?" Killer scowled, straightening anyways to show his slightly warbled target-like SOUL.

"Ah, your appointments."

Killer scoffed and shoved another bite into his mouth. Unable to truly process it.

Nightmare watched him expressionlessly. To the king, it must have been obvious that Killer was a little desperate for his next fix, even if he hated it. Which probably lead to him smiling wide and saying, "What's missing an appointment, hm? You'll be fine."

His food, tasteless as it was to him, lodged itself in Killer's throat. "W... what...?" he choked, breathing harshly once he got the bite down. "Boss, that's-" he hesitated. _I don't want it, but... I need it. Fuck, I need my appointment or else I'll go- _

"Kind of me? Why yes, it is. Now, you have an entire evening freed up to do as you please."

He laughed weakly,_ I'm already fucked in the head, aren't I? _What insanity was there left waiting for him when he lost his mind years ago? "Th... t-thanks..." When he blinked, extra trails of liquid shadow dripped from his sockets. If it looked thinner, watery, then no one mentioned it. "That's... cool."

His hand dropped, clutching the one threatening to break his knee tightly._ I'm fucked,_ he thought, finding comfort in the pain from Horror's hold. It wasn't meant to hurt, he knew. Horror probably didn't even realize he was holding on that tightly with how much focus he had on Nightmare, but... Killer wasn't going to mention it to him. So far, the pain was the only thing he could feel aside from his own fear._ I'm fucked, fucked, **fucked.** _

Even the artist, apathetic as he'd seemed earlier, looked a little alarmed. Just a little.

Reaper turned his gaze away. Cross and Error exchanged glances with Horror. _Will you be okay? _

Horror ignored them.

Nightmare licked his teeth with a wide grin and sampled his wine. "Nice and sweet, this selection is. Well done, Cross."

_ By the time the tendril pries itself out of his SOUL, Killer is reveling in the very pain that forced screams from his throat only a few minutes prior. Voice hoarse and crackling around a laugh, he wheezes, "I feel like shit," and loves the truth of the statement. No remorse, no sorrow... just pain. _

_ Nightmare chuckles, "You've survived yet another little appointment. Impressive. Well done, Killer. _

Resigned, Killer closed his eyes.

_ Let's see if I can survive until the next one... _


	47. Mr. Sandman, Bring Me A... Dream?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream has been acting strangely lately, and Spright isn't sure it's just because of stress.

"Uncle?"

The colorful uncle glanced over first. Being used to the one the kiddos called uncle the most, Spright was expecting for Goth to be calling him, not Respite. It was... nearly impossible to keep the younger god of death home longer than a day. Out of context, it could be assumed he hated life at home, but it was the knowledge of his missing brother and brother-in-laws that had sympathy twinging in the hearts of most strangers. Still, Spright watched Goth walk over to Respite and blearily tug on his night sleeve. "Uncle. Flying today?"

"What time is it...?" Respite murmured.

The young child glanced to the clock, squinting then looking back to them. "Three."

"Is the sun out...?"

"Not yet."

Respite stretched in his bed and slowly sat up. Voice thick with the sleep he wasn't getting, he said, "Gothy, why are you not allowing yourself to sleep?"

"I'm excited! Want uncle to teach me!"

"Sweetie, I can't teach you much in the dark."

"..." Goth pouted, but with exhaustion dragging his own sockets closed, he raised his hands and asked, "Sleep here?"

Spright smiled even as pain lashed out at his SOUL. _Did da little bro have another nightmare...?_ He glanced to the door, a little surprised PJ wasn't standing there watching too. "Gimme a sec, Ressy," the colorful skeleton rose from his reading chair and left, counting the steps it took to get to the kids' rooms before silently peering in at PJ.

Sound asleep.

Spright smiled slightly. He was definitely proud that Goth was finally listening to them when it came to coming to them for help after nightmares, but he had to admit he felt a little bad. Siblings sharing a bed wasn't the worst thing... right? _Ah, stop it ya big softie._

At the end of the day, he still agreed with Dream and Res that the children needed at least that much independence from one another. It was just the concerned uncle part of his brain making him feel guilty since he _knew_ Paperjam wasn't going to be happy when they awoke. _They're gonna be worried if they wake up alone..._ and yet, letting them join the little slumber party now taking place would defeat the purpose of Goth coming to him and Res for help...

Spright sighed, struggling to maintain the smile aimed at the little artist. _Bein' an uncle is hard..._ but he wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, no matter how stressful his new responsibilities could be.

"Spry...?" Res called out softly.

Paperjam really would be upset... "Just a sec, Res."

Leaning down, he slid his arms around Paperjam and pulled them close to his chest to be carried be. They stirred slightly, but some quiet reassurances and the warmth of his arms around them was enough to ease Paperjam back into a deeper sleep as he carried them away, not to his room with Respite though, but Dream's.

"Let's get ya snuggled up with your Daddy Dream," he whispered, smiling down at Paperjam's peaceful expression. _Still can't believe you two are callin' him daddy now..._ it wasn't a bad change, just... surprising. A little sad too when given too much thought. "Dream...?" Spright murmured, lightly knocking on the guardian's door.

A bit of shuffling was heard immediately, and the door opened seconds afterward. _Still not sleepin', then, huh?_ Spright glanced curiously in at the dimly lit room then down at the clothes, wrinkles telling of hours sitting in one place. Smudged on the guardian's fingers looked to be ink or pencil. _Writing...? To who...? What about?_ "Gothy's in our room an it didn't feel right ta leave Jamster by themself..."

Dream looked like a computer telling it's user that the update will be complete within the next century. He blinked slowly, looking between the slumbering child and the exhausted uncle before nodding once and stepping aside.

"What're you still doin' up, Dream?"

"...research," he whispered, then coughed into his sleeve.

Spright's smile slipped slightly. _Was he getting sick...?_ But he focused on tucking PJ into Dream's bed. "Why dontcha get some rest okay? Ressy'n I got the kiddos tomorrow."

"Spri-"

"Nah, dey're my charges too, Sandman. I wanna take care of them an' if dat means ya get some time alone ta sleep, then the better for us all." He looked over to Dream and tried his best impersonation of Geno's or Error's serious faces. "Ya hear?"

Dream smiled. A small thing that wavered at the edges, but- "Yeah... yeah I hear you, Spright..." shoulders slumping, the guardian looked like he was admitting defeat when he murmured, "I should probably sleep for a bit. A nap might help."

"A nap." _It was better than nothing but..._ "Welp, oughta make it soon." He rested a hand on Dream's shoulder. "Rest. Please."

"Yeah... yeah, okay."

"See ya in the morning, Sandman."

Dream mumbled something that may have been a snarky 'It technically _is_ morning,' but the yawn the golden eyed guardian tried to speak around distorted the words too much for Spright to fully understand them. Still, he offered a pity chuckle before taking his leave, sleep pulling at his sockets by the time he slid back into bed.

"He's already asleep," Respite murmured, turned to face him with Goth cradled against his sternum, breathing softly in his sleep. "I believe we ought to do the same... again."

Shifting closer, Spright made sure that Goth would be squished comfortably rather than dangerously before tossing an arm over his little body, and Respite's. "Sounds good. Were ya able to get tomorrow off...?"

"Hm..."

"Res?" Spright peeked an eye open, though he couldn't remember closing his sockets at all. "Boo, are you... oh," he whispered, smiling slightly at the taller skeleton. Already asleep.

With dark, dark magic burned under his eyes.

"...G'night, Ressy..."

———

Nobody was early when they woke up. Not even the kids, who were momentarily panicked at being separated and finding themselves in a completely different room. The earliest they woke up was nearly three hours past their normal. And when they all gathered downstairs for 'breakfast', everyone was still in their sleepwear. No efforts were made on anybody's parts to change.

Even the sleepy request from Goth the night before wasn't being repeated. The mood was nearly stifling with a lowness that they couldn't really describe. A... heaviness resided in their bones. Even with the sun shining brightly and warming them as any good day would start off, each of them still felt... chilled. Cold and alone, despite the others within eyesight and touch. Coffee didn't touch the adults, and juice didn't entice the kids like it used to.

_Wrong... it's all wrong..._ Dream thought passively. _Right... I'm the Guardian of Positivity aren't I? I should be trying to fix this._

But memories of a voice he swore often came from the apple, of the frustrating, crossed out fairytale, of Core hinting strongly at eating the apple.... Of the Goddess of Knowledge suggesting the same thing...

_I don't know what's good anymore... at least, I don't know what's good for this family. The only good I can give them is their parents back, and the Stars and gods know I've been failing this whole time... failing them..._

"Apple?"

Thoughts coming to a screeching halt, Dream flinched, "Excuse me?"

"A... apple...?" Goth repeated, hesitance evident in his voice after witnessing Dream's poor reaction to the simple request. "Can... c-can I have... one...?"

Slightly shrunken, dulled golden orbs followed Goth's hand as the little skeleton pointed to the center of the table where a plate of fruit sat. Berries, diced melons... and thinly sliced apples, too.

_"Apples... they have such a nice, loud crunch when you bite into them." The gaze turned his way was soft, but all the affection in the world wouldn't have been enough to hide the vindictiveness within those eyes. "Choosing this shape... it would be ironic, don't you think?_

_He flinched when a bite of the fruit was taken._

_ **Crunch.** _

_"Heh, maybe he'll even appreciate the joke."_

Shakily, Dream pressed a trembling hand to his chest. _What... what the hell was that...?!_

Becoming even more uncertain, the child looked to Spright and Respite for help, and the younger god of death murmured, "Of course, Gothy," before negotiating just how many slices the little guy wanted. PJ, not one to be left out, perked up. "Me too?"

As Spright smiled over the kids, he watched Dream turn ashen at the munching and excuse himself back upstairs. His plate nearly untouched and now abandoned. He listened for the specific door closing that meant Dream was back in his room before he turned to Respite and murmured, "I'll be right back."

"Checkin' on him?"

"Yeah."

Respite smiled up at him and nodded, turning his attention back to the kids. "I know we'll probably get in trouble, but want some chocolate syrup on your apple slices?"

Spright made his way up the stairs to Dream's room and-

Muffled behind the door, he was still able to make out what Dream seemed to be muttering to himself, "There's gotta be a connection... Between these books, this stupid fruit, these... these voices...? Memories...? Gods...! Why.....?! Why can't you just tell me if it will work or not....? I... I can't. I can't risk it... there's too many lives, I-"

Spright knocked before either of them could consider the consequences. _If it would work...? If what could work? What would he be risking? Who's lives?_

Dream opened up, startling slightly at seeing him. "Hey-"

"Are you doing okay?" the colorful skeleton peered down at the guardian with "...-..." in his glasses.

"Yeah," Dream lied, "I'm just... still a little tired, I guess. Heh, probably from that lack of sleep you keep lecturing me about. Maybe I should listen to your advice about napping today, eh?"

Spright smiled, but the expression was empty. "Who ya chattin' with in there, Sandman?"

"...Just... talking to myself, Spry. Its... a little weird, I know, but it helps me think." Causally, Dream shifted in the doorway to lean against the open door. Head tilted, he asked with a carefully constructed tone, "Why? Did I sound odd?" _What did you hear?_

Spright's unnerving smile grew. "Nah, was just curious... though, I heard somethin' about an apple. Ya allergic, bruh? You... had a nasty reaction to the ones on the table."

"I'm..." Dream blinked, smile slipping a little. "No I'm not allergic."

"Okaaaaay....? So ya freak out about _apples_ has nothin ta do with allergies. What's goin' on?"

"I- nothing, Spry. I just-" He sighed. "There's a lot going on, and... I think I just need a moment."

"Lying."

"Excuse me...?"

Spright crossed his arms and tilted his head down at Dream. His expression didn't change. "What's really goin' on witcha, Dream? It's more'n the four bein' gone an' worryin' about the kiddos. And Res'n I can't help ya if you don't let us."

"...Spright, this is... It's personal, okay?"

Personal, eh? How... vague. "Look, can I be real with ya, brah?"

Slowly, Dream nodded. "Um... sure."

"Ah! Okay, coolio! Well then..."

At once, the accent Spright often spoke with fell away, leaving him with a tone of almost unnerving stoicism to match the cool expression on his face. "I don't really care."

Dream startled, "I... I'm sorry? You-"

"Don't care," Spright repeated, glasses slipping to reveal his unsettling eyes. "You're entitled to your secrets, okay? And usually? I'd try to respect that, but you're hiding things that are weighing you down, and that's dangerous. For you, for the kiddos... if you're not able to remain sharp, then you're vulnerable."

_V-vulnerable...? I... no...! No, I'm not-!_

"So," he continued, taking a step closer. "Talk to me."

Dream flinched back. Slightly. And murmured, "Really, Spry, it's just-"

_"Just tell me if it'll work or not. I can't risk it, it's too many lives._ You're talking about my brothers and their husbands. Their lives," a pause, "The apples... your brother had one. You have one now."

The guardian glanced away, slowly murmuring, "There are two who think that I should eat it..."

"What are you afraid of."

".....becoming like my brother....."

Spright raised a brow. "More powerful?" He took a step forward, and Dream retreated into the room a step. "More goopy?" Another step. "More limbed?" Step. "What about your brother are you afraid of becoming?" Step. The table stopped Dream from moving back some more. "Or is that just another excuse?" His hands flattened slowly onto the table by Dream's hips, trapping him there. "Do you fear the unknown so bad that you'd willingly let those four stay there and suffer?"

Shame filled Dream's gaze. Spright wondered if it was an emotion he truly acknowledged, or simply explained away in order to make himself feel better about his decisions. "The Stars are doing everything they can to search for a way of getting them back, Spright. We-"

"I don't care about that either, _Sandman._ The Stars? We're not talking about them right now. We're talking about _you,_ and why you're holding out on all of us. On _them."_

"I'm not-"

"Are you going to let my brother give birth in that place, Dream?" Spright interrupted coldly. When Dream flinched back, he chuckled with a grim smile. "Yeah, I know. A funky little skeleton showed up here asking for you one day. Sci, he said his name was. He had plans written up for a security system... and questions about Ge's medical history. Apparently, he wanted to know if anything would affect the pregnancy."

That shame-filled face turned to one of guilt, and Dream dropped his gaze to the side. Spright followed, seeing the satchel. _That he almost never took off anymore._ Not even sparing the little guardian a glance, Spright snatched the satchel. "Spright, no, don't-!"

Ignoring him, he reached in and felt a round object. That he pulled out and- "A golden apple." He held it out of Dream's reach and demanded, "What else aren't you telling us?"

"The things I'm keeping secret," Dream tried to explain desperately, "it's for your peace of mind! The kids-!"

"They're both older siblings and neither of them know it. _Respite_ doesn't even know. You've only got this last shot to tell me what the funk you've been keeping from us, Dream." His hand tightened around the apple, and though that was the more visible threat, the colorful skeleton was eyeing the smaller one for openings. _Oh, and look at how many there are._

Sockets wide with something Spright didn't care to understand, he begged, "Spry please, don't- don't break it...!"

_Break the apple?_ "Talk."

"The apple- i-it's corrupted. It corrupted my brother-"

"And yet you have one?"

"N-no! No they're two different apples-!"

Spright grit his teeth, "Then why haven't you eaten this one."

"Because I don't know what eating it will do!" Dream snapped, the panic in his eyes echoed by the waver in his voice. "Spright, taking a bite of his apple turned my brother into a _monster._ One who... who r-rapes and tortures and-"

"Has my family in his clutches. _Your_ family now, Dream. He rapes? He tortures? Yeah, well, guess who gets to suffer that, and more? Geno, Error... _all of them,_ Dream. Do you understand that?"

"Of course I fucking do-"

"Don't swear at me," Spright snarled, a trickle of golden juice dripping down his wrist when his grip tightened on the ap-

A dribble of shimmering marrow dripped from Dream's nasal cavity.

The both of them froze. Dream mindlessly lifted a hand and touched the marrow, looking at it then to the bit dripping from the apple. "Spr...."

Surprise shone on the colorful one's face, if for a moment. That stoic, unusually angry expression slowly bled back into place. "Eat the apple Dream. I can't let your fear keep them from coming home."

"No...." his voice trembled. "Spright, I can't."

"You _will."_

"What if-?!"

"You think you're gonna be your brother? I'll stop you before that happens. Now, Dream. _Eat the apple,_ or I'll destroy it."

Dream stared at him incredulously. _Destroy the apple...? But...!_

Again, Spright's grip tightened, and Dream made a noise of pain as the blood dripping from his nasal cavity increased. When he swallowed, there was something sweet mixed in with his saliva. The taste of apples.

Blood, Dream knew. "S-Spright, please, just... stop this."

"I'll stop when you give me an answer."

"I'm telling you that I can't-!"

"Won't," the taller skeleton corrected. "This isn't a matter of what you can or can't do. It's something that you _won't_ do; a decision you're actively making out of... what? Fear? Uncertainty? Whatever your reasons are, they're not good enough, Dream."

"Spright, _please,"_ the guardian tried once more.

"Make a decision. If not, _then I'll make it for you."_ After a few moments of silence, Spright sighed, "...I don't want to be mean, Sandman. I don't want to hurt you either, but... for all we know, this could be what we need to get our family back. I... I can't let you pass this opportunity up."

"Even if I become my brother? Or worse?"

"You've always been two different people, and if you think some stupid apple is going to change that, then you're dumber than a wheelie on a freeway."

Again, the silence between them stretched. Dream glanced between Spright and the apple, apparently warring with himself... Spright grit his teeth and stepped closer, shoving the apple into Dream's hand. Weakly, Dream laughed, "This isn't a choice is it...?"

"The choice is to save our family. There’s nothing else."

To save them... The more he thought about it, the angrier Spright became. How long has Dream had this apple with him? How long has he stared at it, figuring that it could help them, yet never taking the chance? He could feel his magic becoming unstable, until he blinked and saw his body collapse in front of him, and the apple in his tiny gloved hand. From inside his skull, Dream screamed _Spright?! Spright what are you doing?!_

And with Dream's own voice, he murmured, "Making the decision for you," and took a bite.

As one, the two screamed.


	48. Poor Adequate SOUL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a special new POV~!

_"Brother? Brother, where are-"_

_At the sight of a blue hoodie laid across the snow, he froze. Rarely, if ever, did the shorter skeleton leave his beloved jacket around. Socks? Those ended up everywhere, even Grillby's at one point, but his brother's hoodie? No, never._

_"Sans?" he called, quickly picking the garment up and brushing off the snow. "Sans, are... are you pranking me?"_

_No answer._

_Worry left him feeling ill. "Sans...?" he called out again, pleadingly. He tried not to think of how sluggish his brother seemed lately. Tired, strangely weak... "SANS?!"_

_"P-Papyrus?”_

_Relieved, he whirled around._

_A single, watery socket peered up at him from a familiar face, though the glitch over the right eye did it's best to interfere with that familiarity. "I... I'm s-sorry," <strike>Sans</strike> Geno sobbed, tears dripping down his face._

_"Brother-"_

_“I'm s-sorry, Paps, I... Stars, I'm s-so..." Flames sparked to life on Geno's scarf, rapidly spreading across the crimson fabric. Unflinching, the smaller skeleton continued to apologize. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

_Horrified, he watched as the flames spread onto the glitch himself. "You're-!”_

_Geno screamed as he burned, wailing, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

When he awoke, Endure was screaming as well.

It took a few moments for him to stop, but his hands frantically wiping at himself didn't. He was acting as though he were the one caught on fire, and perhaps in a sense he was? 

I hate Geno. _Lie._

He abandoned me and allowed our world to be destroyed. _Lie._

He.... he deserved... _LIE._

Curling in on himself, Endure hid his face and shook his head. _He doesn't deserve to be treated like a doll... I.... I am not sure what's going on, but I do not believe this is a good thing happening to them..._ He pulled his hands from his face and stared down at them. Flickering before his eyes was the memory of his brother's jacket, and of Geno's scarf. He blinked and shook his head. _Why...? Why did I...?_

_No... no, Nightmare has to be right, right...? He... he has to be right about them... because if he isn't.... then... then I...._

Abruptly, the Papyrus stood and gathered clothes. "I need to get ready," he murmured to himself.

Luckily, no one was there to see him flinch as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. _You're not guilty,_ Endure told himself, making sure the fabric was secure before wrapping the faded blue sweater around his waist. _Guilt means you did something wrong, and you..._

_Wailing, Geno fought against the bones pinning his clothing down in a desperate attempt to get to the flaming scarf. "No! N-no, please, I... I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, s-so please don't- STOP IT!" he screamed as the material rapidly turned to ash. "Please!"_

He curled a hand in his own scarf. "..."

_Yeah... that probably wasn't... **good**... of me..._ But...! In his defense, he was just so angry...! 

Even that 'defense' felt weak. 

_"Weak, like you are right now. Oh, you'll become strong with me, but for now, you're the Newbie. The Weakling. You're easily manipulated by the Stars, as they've done with you and Aftertale."_

Uncomfortably, Endure fidgeted. Dream had treated him nice enough. He had seemed genuine in his help, and genuine in his heartbreak over Aftertale. It was hard to tell with Ink, but seeing the aftermath of what the artist did to Killer... there wasn't a doubt in the Papyrus' mind that Ink was more than capable of destroying an AU. 

But here... Talk of Dream was prohibited. Even saying 'dream' in reference to the... night visions he had wasn't allowed. _And Ink had supposedly reacted to the marks on my bro- on **Geno's** face..._ But he went overboard, didn't he? 

_He was angry. Like you were when you burned your brother's scarf._

This was getting him nowhere... Endure glanced around to his surroundings and walked towards the kitchen. Most likely, Horror and Killer would be there, and they'd be able to <strike>order him around</strike> distract him from his own thoughts.

Sure enough, the two were huddled close together over the stove when he walked in. A little _too_ close together if you asked Endure, but he learned early on in his stay at the castle that some things weren't to be spoken about. Whatever relationship Horror and Killer had was one of those things, though it seemed to be an open secret among the nightmares. 

"Good morning," he greeted, announcing his arrivial.

Horror glanced up, but Killer kept his head bowed over what seemed to be a pan of eggs, judging by the smell. "Morning, newbie. You look like shit."

"...thanks...? It was a rough night." 

"And you didn't shower first?" 

Endure blinked. _Oh... a shower **would** be a good way to start the day..._ He murmured, "I came to find some food beforehand." 

"Look'n the fridge," Horror grumbled. "We stocked it up yesterday, remember? Since you were there?" 

"....Right.... am I allowed...?" 

"Grab some eggs, newbie. You're gonna need the protein for training today." 

_Oh what a relief. Probably._ "What will I be learning today?"

"Teaching, not learning."

Pausing, Endure frowned at the pan full of eggs before him in confusion. Teaching? That... that had to be some sort of mistake, right? He was the newbie, hence the nickname from Horror. What lessons did he have to teach the others? "I... don't understand."

"Boss has been gettin' a little bored with his usual games, apparently. Instead of learnin' lessons from us today, you're going to be training one of the other newbies on how to use a bow. The god, I think."

"I see... is there a reason why _I_ was selected for this?” Teaching the god was better than facing Ink or Error, but it... it didn't sit well with him. "If I remember correctly, Cross is fairly decent with a bow and arrow as well."

"Yeah, well, according to Crossy himself, it's because of the skill your previous... _mentor_ passed on. Personally, I think Nightmare just wants to fuck with them. I mean," Killer shrugged, "they kinda hate your guts. Night probably wants to see how long one of them can last one-on-one with you before they snap and try to tear your head off."

_My previous mentor... **Dream**.... yikes, it has been a while..._ End frowned more and glanced to Killer. "Are you betting upon my demise?" 

"I think it'd be funny," he smirked back. 

Turning his gaze to Horror, End asked, "And will you two be joining us?" 

"Nah. Boss has other plans for us. Eat your food'n go grab them. You ain't got all day to teach the god." 

"I see..." 

"And of course, boss'll wanna see improvements before dinner."

_Of course._ Nodding in understanding, Endure finished collecting his breakfast and got to eating. He took his time, savoring the simple meal rather than rushing through it. It wasn't as though it made sense for him to shower before training, after all. There was no reason to hurry.

I'm not stalling... but he was, and the others knew it.

"C'mon, newbie. You ain't got all day."

"I've barely begun my meal."

"Yeah, that's the problem. Get a move on, End. Sitting around and moping because you don't like your mission isn't gonna get you out of it, or earn you any points."

Endure sighed but made sure to speed up his consumption before taking his dishes and washing them. He murmured a goodbye to the two and, sighing again, made his way to where he knew the husbands resided. 

He paused at the door and, shoving his annoyance down as much as he could, knocked. Who opened the door was someone he arguably wanted to see less of. 

_Ink. _

The artist stared at him then frowned. "Endure." 

"Artist." 

One of his sockets twitched slightly, but he forced a smile on his face. "What can I help you with?" 

"I was told I'm to teach the god today." _How much sway do I have here? Technically they are newer newbies than I am right...?_ "If you would summon him here, that would be great." 

"You don't want to come in?" 

"....no thank you." _Not if I can help it._

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Ink watched him. Endure would never admit it, but the gaze left him... unsettled. If he were an honest man, <strike>and when did that ever change,</strike> then he would have said that the discomfort came from the fact that Ink's too-knowing stare was... familiar.

_"Paps..."_

_Shifting in place, he averted his gaze from his older brother's eyes, guilty. "I said the dog took it!"_

_"Did it?"_

_"Y-yes!"_

_Sans nodded, then dropped the issue. "Okay."_

_Those kind, soft eyelights were knowing though._ I know you're lying to me, _they said._

_Guilt festered within him._

"I'll go get Reaper."

Endure nodded once and stepped away from the door, expecting Ink to slam it. 

He left it open. 

He didn't even glance back as he made his way upstairs to where End knew their bedrooms were, but had never seen before. _Am I allowed in? Should I come in anyways...?_

But he stayed there, <strike>nervously</strike> patiently waiting for the artist to return with his godly husband. And was surprised at the relative speed with which they came. Reaper's light-less gaze bore into Endure's own, but all he asked was, "Just me?" in a weary tone. 

"My orders said nothing of the others, so yes. Just you." 

Half a sigh, half a huff, Reaper turned back towards Ink and squeezed his hands, murmuring something too low for Endure to hear. Ink slowly nodded, giving him a small kiss in return, and watched as Reaper left with End.

As the door shut behind them, tension fell over their heads. _This... this is my... brother in-law..._ So were the other two, but... _No. No, none of them are family. **Geno** is not family._

The sooner his heart finally understood that, the better.

"So, what is it that you've been ordered to teach me?" Reaper questioned, voice low and tone dull. He didn't sound as if he truly cared about getting an answer, so he wasn't sure why the god even asked. "Usually, Cross takes care of our lessons."

"Not today."

"I can see that. What I want to know is _why?_ And what the lesson is."

Endure turned away, making sure to keep the god in the corner of his sights as he took the other outside. "I'm to be teaching you archery. Supposedly, the king sees my own mastery of it worthy to pass along to you." 

"Because of Drea-" Reaper winced and snapped his jaw shut. "Because of your _mentor._ The one who trained you to be better than this." 

"My _mentor_ trained me to defend myself and my world against you and your husbands. Funny that we all ended up here huh?" 

"Funny that we _Ended_ here, indeed," Reaper murmured. 

Pausing just at the outside door, Endure frowned and glanced to him. "Are you making jokes with me?" 

Reaper stared flatly at him. "Am I _killing_ the mood?"

Irritation flashed in his eyes. Unfortunately, it wasn't strong enough to disguise the humor the jokes brought him, though he was still displeased by the inappropriate timing. And the one making the jokes. "Your humor has no place during training, god. You will sit through the lesson, practice, and then leave once you have proven yourself skilled with the bow."

"How hard could archery be?"

Endure forced his annoyance down. "Archery is no easy skill to master."

"It's just aim and fire, isn't it?"

_Why do you keep asking questions?_ It's the first question he thought of, but it wasn't the one Endure truly wanted to ask. _Why do you seem to want to talk so badly?_ "There's more to it than that. You need discipline. Patience..."

_"Brother, what does the color of your magic mean? It's pretty.”_

"...Determination..."

_Endure frowned at the reports spread across the table. After finding his... After Geno's unexpected appearance at dinner that night, he made a request for the information complied on the new nightmares since, apparently, that included the glitch. Most of what was written he knew, but... "It says here that the glitch's SOUL trait is... determination? And his magic is **red**?" That wasn't right. His brother's-_

_Oh, but Geno wasn't his brother, was he?_

_ <strike>Not anymore.</strike> _

"...Enough talking," Endure mumbled. "We have training to begin."

It was silent as he pushed the door open and lead the god out to the training grounds. To End's surprise, there were plenty of bows and arrows and targets set for their training. Though the god didn't seem surprised. Or impressed. "How am I supposed to learn if we don't talk to each other?" 

_....ya got me there...._

"Just... focus on what I've to teach you. Don't ask me things that do not pertain to the lesson." 

"Touchy… Fine," Reaper made his way over to the bows and picked one up before glancing to Endure. 

For a moment, End stared back with a narrowed gaze. _Do they expect me to teach him to manifest a bow from his magic? Or is a bow like this enough...? Perhaps it's just the 'point and shoot' aspect of it..._ Though he was loathe to admit that was a more fun way to refer to archery.

"What now?"

The spiteful portion of his mind that Endure was finding increasingly familiar reared it's ugly head just then. "Point at a target, then shoot." _Let him see how difficult it truly is._

Sure enough, Reaper not only missed the mark by quite the distance, but nearly carved a good portion of his arm off when the bowstring snapped back into position after being released. 

"Shit!" the god cursed, dropped the weapon and inspecting the nasty tear in his sleeve. "What the hell was that?"

_"That_ was carelessness, and the assumption that archery is an easy art to master. Pick up your bow, god, and watch me. You have much to learn today."

Much more focused on the lesson now, Reaper did his best to absorb as much as he could from Endure. Elbow pointed just slightly out. Draw the bow back to the corner of his grin. Aim with the socket hovering over the arrow. Aim slightly above the target when further away. Soon, Reaper was hitting every nearby target with bullseyes, and missing the further ones by mere centimeters.

He learned what each of the parts of the bow and arrows and quiver was. How to take apart and restring the bow. What strings work the best. How to make an arrow in a pinch with his claws. 

His shoulders were on _fire_ by the time their lesson was done, and by the time Endure seemed satisfied, albeit even crankier than before. Reaper had managed to keep his questions to himself, but by the end, he blurted, "Was this how Dream taught you?"

"_Please... **please** help me. I... I want to get better. I **need** to get better if I'm going to help protect my brother!" Not that Sans would admit to needing protecting. Even when he could barely stand up straight, his brother insisted he was fine._

_Sans **always** insisted he was fine, even though Papyrus was well aware he suffered more than he let on. People who were fine didn't wake screaming in the middle of the night, after all._

_"He won't admit it, but my brother is sick and... and **something** is happening. I... I don't know what, but... I know I need to get stronger. I need to help, and you seem like you'd be able to aid me in improving. So... please. I beg of you, strange skeleton, please help me."_

_"...If I'm going to act as your mentor, then you can at least call me by my name." Smiling, the shorter, golden eyed skeleton reached out in an offer to shake his hand. "It's Dream, remember?"_

_He couldn't recall ever meeting this Dream, but... something in him did seem to remember his name, oddly enough. "It's nice to meet you, Dream."_

"No." He left it at that. "Come along, god. Nightmare is the only one who can truly dismiss you, so let us seek him out so that he may judge your new abilities."

A sigh escaped Reaper before he had a chance to shut it down. Endure... ignored it. He'd been making noises all lesson. Mostly grunts of pain or soft hisses when he forgot to bend his elbow and the string hit his arm. This was just... one of those noises and not something born of annoyance or frustration at End! 

.... 

_A-anyway..._ Endure lead him back inside and sought out the throne room. _Nig- Boss usually sits here, right? He doesn't want for us to be in his private chambers, so perhaps he will show up here?_

_...gods I hope it doesn't take too long..._ End blinked at his own thoughts and mentally shook his head. _Idiot, it should take as long as your boss demands._

Uncomfortable with the newly defiant thoughts, Endure opened the doors and motioned Reaper in first, so they may stand before the empty throne and wait. 

_And after all that time..._

Endure was in a sour mood by the time Nightmare showed, but he did his best to keep the annoyance from his expression as he bowed to the king. "My lord, I did as ordered and passed my knowledge of archery onto the god."

Nightmare hummed in acknowledgement, eyes not on Endure, but Reaper. "He did well?"

He could lie, Endure realized. "He..." _Is abysmal, he has no skill, he..._ "The god's skills are adequate, my king. Better than I expected for a beginner."

"Adequate? Hours of training and all you have to offer me is an adequate performance? I expected better from _you,_ Endure. Ah, you're still quite new though, are you not? I suppose I can be... forgiving. If you student manages to shoot a target of my choosing, then I'll accept your... adequate teaching."

_A target of his choosing...?_

Reaper tensed too, staring down at his feet. _He's going to make me shoot my husbands._

Unbeknownst to the god, his teacher was thinking the same thing. And he had to fight to keep his protests inside. _He would've asked for a demonstration regardless..._ End tried to reason. 

Nightmare studied the both of them with a... neutral smile. Something neither happy nor mad, which put the both of them even further on edge. "It's so classic to shoot an apple off a person's head, yes? Heh...." He sat up straighter. "God, string your bow. End, step away. I wouldn't want you helping him any further, if his training is _adequate,_ as you say, then he should no longer require your assistance, yes?" 

"Y-yes sir." 

"Good. Stand back. God? Is your bow stringed?" 

Reaper nodded mutely, then whispered, "It is." 

"And your arrows?" 

"O-one is notched." 

"Good...." Nightmare surveyed the both of them and nodded. "I've decided on the target. God, shoot the right socket."

At first, neither fully comprehended what it was that Nightmare was demanding of Reaper. Then, the realization hit, and Endure turned to face the king with a panicked expression. "My lor-"

"Think twice before you question me, Endure. I've made my decision, and should you choose to defy it... well, I'll leave that up to your imagination. God, aim."

Silently, Reaper lifted his bow and aimed.

"Fire."

The arrow flew—


	49. Be Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something strange is going on back home.

With a startled chirp, Respite twisted in the air, narrowly avoiding a hawk as it zipped passed him, off to Stars knew where. "Careful!" he called after it, though he knew the bird wouldn't hear, or understand.

Sighing to himself, Respite continued his journey back home. Another exhausting day of reaping those who needed it. All he wanted was to soak in the tub and... a blush colored his cheekbones._ Let Spry preen my tired wings..._

That blush faded quickly. _No... they cannot afford for Respite to relax yet. Not until the husbands are home. Not until... not until his brother and the rest of their **family** is home...._

Though he could continue to hope for something like that. _Once they're home,_ then he and Spry can spend more alone time together... Until then... well, the thought of Goth finally letting his uncle preen him was something heartbreaking. Preening was supposed to be between parent and child, or partners. But from uncle to nephew... well, that was parental in a way, it just made Respite's SOUL ache.

_Brother..._

His earlier memories were fuzzy, but he faintly recalled the sensation of gentle fingers combing through his wings. An often deep voice fluidly raising in pitch, whistling songs to keep the attention of a young child while Sans worked.

_"You're gonna grow up big and strong, Paps," Brother murmured, voice wistful as he skimmed through baby soft, fluffy feathers. "One day, you won't need your big brother to preen your wings for you..."_

"That doesn't mean I don't still need you, brother," he whispered to the memory, voice lost to the wind. _Please, come home soon. Your children miss you. I miss you._

Weighed by sorrow, Respite lowered himself to the floor and took to walking the rest of the way home. He was close enough that the house appeared within minutes, lifting his mood slightly. _Everyone is waiting._

Smiling, he paused just to enjoy the small moment. Soon enough, he would be home-

A strange, layered scream sent him running towards the house.

_Spright?!_ Though his concern was for his whole family, Respite found himself thinking of Spry's name first. It didn't sound like either of the kids, but even as he slammed the door open, he knew he would need to check on them.

But that scream.. it also sounded like Dream... _did Spry...?!_ Curses made their home in his mind as he nearly flew up the stairs and slammed open the door to Dream's room.

Where both were sprawled on the floor.

Spright looked like he was asleep while Dream had golden juice and blood running from beneath the hand covering his mouth. His sockets were wide in a strange mix of Dream's lights, Spright's lights, and an ancient golden glow. An ancient glow that... that Res really felt he should've remembered. But in the chaos of their combined screaming, Res shoved the feeling aside and grabbed Dream's body into his arms. "Spright!" he called out. "Spright, let him go!"

"C-Can....n't...!"

"You _can_ okay? You _can_ and you _need_ to let him go...!" Res dragged them over to Spright's body, cringing at their combined cries of pain. "You're right here," he murmured, placing a hand on Spright's shoulder. "Right here, not with Dream."

"Nngh!" Dream doubled over slightly sobbing harder. Soon, a near ghostly version of Spright drifted from Dream's mouth and shot back into his own body, where his sockets shot open and he curled away from Respite. Dream, on the other hand, sagged back in relief, tears still flowing. The pain the two seemed to have been in faded, though Res couldn't keep the tension from gathering in his own shoulders.

"Spright, Dream, what happened...?" He demanded. "Spry, why did you...?"

Dream shook his head and whispered, "Not... n...not now please...."

"But-"

**"N o t n o w!”** Dream snarled before flinching back, anger abruptly shifting to a meek, apologetic tone. "T-that was rude, we- _I'm_ sorry, godling- _Respite!_ P-please just..." Shimmering, golden tears trickled down Dream's cheeks, bright like glittering stars in a night sky. "Please, take Spright and go. _Go."_

He wanted to argue, but his concern for Spright won out. Balled up, the usually happy, brightly dressed skeleton was difficult move, but Respite got his arms around the trembling Sans and backed out of the room, eyes on Dream as he did so. "If you need me-"

Dream reached out, though his outstretched hand wasn't a plea for help. Instead, it flared with a scorching hue of gold that began creeping up the guardian's arm.

"Dream-" Respite began, worried.

The door slammed shut.

"Not Dream," Spright rasped, shaking in his arms. "That... t-that's not Dream."

Even more alarmed, Respite looked at him. "Not Dream...?"

"N...no....!" Spright clung to him.

"Where are the kids?"

The reply was merely a whisper, "The art room..."

_Good... good they should still be there..._ Unless the screams alarmed them, which of course they would have. "Spright, talk to me. Tell me what happened."

Spright shuddered and shook his head, murmuring, "He... the apple.... _he's back...!"_ He shut his eyes tightly and buried his face in Respite's chest.

Panic began to brew within the god's chest. "Spright, I need you to be clear with me. He? Who is he? And do you believe he will harm the children?"

Trembling, the frightened, colorful skeleton shook his head. "I... I c-can't do this, Res. N-not now. I saw- stars, I saw too much. It _hurts,_ Res. There's too many years in my and I- I can't do this. I can't talk about it. Trying to even _comprehend_ it hurts and I- the kids are safe."

"Spry, please-"

"The kids are safe," Spright repeated, voice haunted and strained with emotion. "Whoever- _whatever_ he is, he won't hurt them. He loves them too much." A little hysterically, Spright laughed, "He loves _everything."_

He. Not Dream, _he._ But who was he? Who was-

Spright's laughter continued, "Ni- Neg- the man who took our family is **fucked."**

Lightning shot up Respite's spine at the curse. From _Spright._ "O-oh...!" Then, "In that case, Spright, you must rest. Let me care for the kids until you and Dream- or... w-well, whoever's occupying Dream's body, are okay."

Spright still chuckled to himself, though the younger death god could see the growing hysteria in the way tears began to fall from the corner of his sockets. He nodded slightly and murmured, "Sleep.... f-feels like I... he...? _We've_ done enough of th-that...."

_Done enough... sleeping...?_

His worry must have shown on his expression, because Spright smiled. "Heh..." His tears fell, shining as they caught the light. Respite startled when he realized there was a hint of gold in the tears. "Don't... don't worry, Res. Everything is going to be okay."

"Spry..."

"Just..." Spright's next round of laughter was watery. "Just _be positive,_" he said, choking out a hysterical laugh.

"Un...u-uncle...?"

Respite glanced over and smiled at Goth and PJ. "Hey... I'm home...!" A glance to PJ's outfit showed his feeling as a boy for the moment.

Spright clung into Respite's chest, hiding his tears from their nephews.

Nervously, PJ murmured, "W-we heard screaming...."

"Oh...!" _Lie lie lie!_ "D-don't worry too much on it, it was just a prank gone wrong!"

PJ blinked and glanced to Spright, who still refused to look at them, before staring back up at the younger god. "A prank...?"

"A bad joke. Come now, are you hungry? Uncle Spright needs some rest, but I can make you something if you'd like?"

Both kids shook their heads, evidently still nervous about those screams. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else for Respite to offer... "I can sit with you and you can show me your stories and pictures if you would like?"

That had Goth brightening slightly. "Jammy made more pictures, but one got ruined when we got scared."

"I would love for you to show me what you've made, if you two want me to."

After getting Spright settled in the bed in their room, Respite settled down on the floor, wrapping arms gently around the kids as they made themselves comfortable next to him and eagerly showed him what they made.


	50. Irredeemable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's the bastard's time to shine.

He was quite amused that there wasn't a moment of hesitation at the god's end. Of course there wasn't. _The god is **mine** after all. Any hesitation made should be because it was what I had ordered._

Though it was kind of annoying to listen to End's scream, and to see the marrow that instantly spurted from the wound. Annoying, but unsurprising. "Enough," he ordered. "God, take him to Horror and Killer. They're probably in the kitchen. Dismissed." He watched, even more amused as Reaper's conflicted expression. "No, I do not want him dead." 

_Not yet._ Everybody heard the unspoken words.

"Yes, master," His little bird murmured, bowing his head in submission and leading the injured Papyrus away. 

_"Master."_ How lovely. All the reluctance the godling once presented when addressing him gone, abandoned to give way to compliance. The sweet, resigned obedience was... 

Much like a snake, his tongue flicked, sampling the agony left in their wake. "...Delicious," he purred.

And yet, he found himself left unsatisfied by the flavor pleasing his tongue. Pain, regret... they fed him well, but months of the same meal left him longing for more. There were many flavors he enjoyed, but if everything he sampled was to be coated in familiarity, then there was one taste he would have preferred over all the ones available to him now: Bitter, agonizing _defeat._

More specifically, the emotion he dedicated _centuries_ to cultivating within his dear, sweet C- Well, there was no use in mentioning that name, was there? "Not when you still have yet to remember," he murmured, eyes not on the wall his gaze bore into, but on the emotion he could sense beyond it; far across the castle.

_Oh, he's actually enjoying himself at the moment._

Perhaps he ought to do something about that?

"Oh and Reapsy?" he called out just as they got to the door. 

Slowly, Reaper looked over his shoulder. "...yes, master?" 

"Send the destroyer and betrayer my way once you get back." He changed his voice to mock Error's, "Hurry along, you wouldn't want to keep your boss waiting." Again, his voice shifted, but this time to Ink's, "And make sure there's no blood on your robes when I see you again!" 

Shaking slightly, Reaper bowed his head and murmured another confirmation before taking the injured Papyrus away. 

_How funny that the voices of your husbands on my tongue still lights such a complex stew within you._ Heh... Though he hated the flavor and feel of love, it was delicious with the immediate self-loathing and guilt and compliance.

_Oh, the mixtures whenever I use little Genocide's voice..._ Hope and love that wilted into a rage so dark and foul it left the air tasting of decay. "Fitting for a god of death, I suppose." But there was always room for improvement.

"I wonder... could he turn his abilities inward...?" Death himself was immune to his own concept, but... love could die, could it not? Happiness, adoration... did it not all come to an end eventually?

Was Death not the end to all things, even joy?

"...M'lord..." Ink murmured, announcing his presence as he pushed through the doors, trailed by Error.

Ah, a thought for another time, it seemed.

Instead of looking at Ink, he rested his gaze upon Error and slowly smiled. "How good of you both to join me in decent enough attire. Not a wrinkle in sight..." Surprising, since he was sure the two had been in close physical contact for the artist to have let his guard down somewhat. "Error, join me for a moment." He placed a hand on his knee. "Inky, you can stay kneeling right there." 

Ink grit his teeth and watched closely as Error tried to mask his trembling for confidence. Taking a seat on the arm of the throne, he kept his gaze down from both Ink and Nightmare. Though he startled when Nightmare wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into his lap. "There we go. Much better, isn't it? Oh don't bother answering, I know what you two would say." 

_Nothing._ Because he didn't give a command or an order or permission to begin speaking. _Perfect._

_Nearly..._ He eyed the darkness within Ink with glints of entertainment shimmering in his own lights. "I had talked to the bird about childhood stories. I wonder if he mentioned them to you?" They both shook their heads, and he gasped, "Oh? A surprise then. Surely dear Reapsy wouldn't have left you two out of the loop on anything? Ah, but I suppose that leaves more room for me to teach you these stories. 'Stories?' That must be what you two are thinking right? Heh, yes. Stories... But I don't want to start at the beginning this time. No... instead, I want to talk about a different tale." His voice changed to mimic Ink's as Nightmare peered down to Error. "Do you remember it?" 

Memories flared to life within Error's mind of Nightmare's... _storytelling._ Sure, some of it was literally them listening to him talk about these characters. Other times, it was snippets or references during sex and AU destructions. _Which one...? Which is it today?_ "You... you called it 'De-Cree-d'..." 

"Excellent."

'Decreed...?' Ink mouthed, bringing a smile to his face. Even voiceless, he could tell that the artistic empath was saying it wrong. There was none of the special emphasis he taught Error all those years ago. _Perhaps a private lesson is in store?_ Temping... but no.

He knew from experience that the artist had a tendency to shut down when he wasn't enjoying their time together. It was amusing, and often useful, but he needed_ Ink_ still left with the capacity to think for himself, not blindly obey. _I expect a realization from you soon, little artist..._

"Tell me, Error... what do you recall from that tale?" As close as they were, he could feel the skip in the destroyer's soulbeat when his hand settled on his thigh. "It was one I shared with you often. A... favorite of mine, you could say."

"It... i-it was... w-was..."

Fondly, he recalled all the little, lovely dresses he used to make his stand in wear. _He_ always used to be quite fond when the perfect, golden eyed puppy dolled himself up. Surely, the gowns Error often wore a handful of years ago would have drawn interest. If anything, they were... a practical garment. 

Working around pants in order to toy with unformed magic was _such_ a bother, after all.

"It was...?" he urged, lidded gaze on the beautiful crimson of his empath's eyes. _You can't stand that I'm making him squirm, and yet... you do nothing about it._ He thought having more toys would make this whole process go more quickly. Apparently, he thought wrong. _Do you not adore them? Is the love you claim to have for them not strong?_ Back then, just the smallest threat to the puppy would have the empath bristling with rage. Why not Error? "Well?"

"T-the... th... t-the..." 

_If poor little Ru wasn't so stubborn, I'd be up to my knuckles within him by now, so why wasn't the empath reacting beyond that angry stare? Why did he still comply? Honestly, I'm starting to think that I stole away the wrong playthings._

He should have gone for Posipaws.

_Unless.... heh, is he really so worried about the doll that he does nothing now...? Or are you worried that defiance will land my destroyer in Horror's care for a while?_ Both valid reasons. 

Both boring. He wanted Inky to react. To remember. 

Of course... he was torn. It was fun to play with them like this. And if he _remembered..._ well, that would be it, wouldn't it? That elusive, bitter defeat Nightmare craved... it would be _delicious._ But like the wonderful aromas he'd been indulging on since they all came to be with him, that flavor would fade into something less appealing. Like having candy so often that it brings no pleasure. 

But that initial _taste_... how he longed for it. 

Even now, taunting Ink with his hands and tendrils on Error, and the growing embarrassment and self-loathing and fear within the destroyer, all Nightmare wanted was just a sample of that. 

Still, Ink glared. Though didn't keep his mouth shut. "What of the story, my king...?" 

"What indeed." He squeezed the back of Error's nape slightly. "Enough, lover. I'll tell the story. It's quite amusing, Inky. I think you'd relate well to the main character."

"...Why is that, my king?" Ink questioned, taking his cue from the expectant silence that fell between them.

_Perfect._ A smile settled on his face. 

"Because you _are_ the main character, of course," he revealed. "And I'm bored of waiting for you to realize it."


	51. Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we receive an introduction.

They lost track of just how many hours passed before anybody got to see Dream again, though when the golden eyed guardian finally did emerge from his room, he looked... far from what Spright seemed to expect.

Dream simply looked like Dream, though tired.

Still, Spright and Respite watched with weary eyes as the shorter made his way to the coffee machine and started it, standing idly as he stared at the slow stream of bitter, caffeinated liquid. Once the brew was done, they watched with growing horror as Dream merely lifted the steaming pot to his grin and took a gulp. Then another. And a third and- oh there wasn't any more coffee.

Dream closed his eyes, savoring the lingering bitterness on his tongue. He set the pot back down and began a new brew. "Do we need anything for breakfast?"

Silence. Unnervingly so. Frowning a little, he turned towards the other two and asked again, "Well, do we? Shall I go on a grocery run soon?" A little wistfully, he stared into the distance. "I... I don't know why, but I have the strangest craving for sweet rolls..." Frowning slightly, the guardian sighed, "I'm still missing pieces, it seems..."

"Dream...." Respite began, pausing when the guardian's gaze sharpened once again, flickering. Instead of the soft golden orbs he and Spright were used to, his eyes were _vibrant. _Less the soft hue of dimming sunlight and more of a molten metal, like liquid gold melted over a burning flame. And the way they shimmered... no, not shimmered. _Burned, _as though someone dipped the very sun itself in fine metal only to find that it's scorching light could not be contained.

In all honesty, that too-bright gaze was unnerving. And undeniably beautiful. 

Honestly, the two weren't sure what to make of it. At the very least, Dream seemed... okay? Civil? _Maybe_ a little nervous and distant? Though that could've been the two of them projecting a little.

Spright jumped in, "Tha food's fine. I went shoppin' da other day." Dropping the accent for a moment, he murmured, "How are you doing...?"

"..." Dream turned back to the pot and murmured, "Aside from you jumping into my body and forcing me to eat the apple that could've turned me into Nightmare part two, I'm doing great." He cringed, voice turning somewhat softer, "S-sorry-" he shook his head and flicked a glare at Spright. "No, I'm **not,** actually." He paused, as if trying to wrangle his thoughts together into something cohesive.

"Spright.... you did _what-?"_

Dream interrupted, "It doesn't matter now. It's already done." He picked the new pot up and murmured, "Thanks to Spright I'm... whole again. Though it's...." frowning, he took another gulp.

_"B-bitter!" he exclaimed, expression screwed up tightly as he quickly passed the mug back._

_Fond laughter soothed the taste in his mouth as affection bloomed, "Sorry, love. I thought about warning you, but..." The older skeleton grinned, cheeky. "I knew your expression would be too cute to miss."_

"..." Eyes dimming, he stared down at the remaining liquid in the pot. _I never understood why you would create something so bitter..._ but as he matured, albeit unknowingly, the flavor of coffee grew on him. Perhaps, it reminded him of affectionate kisses he was unable to recall. Until now. _I miss you..._

Slowly, his sorrowful, longing gaze trailed off to stare in the direction of the front door. _I miss all of you..._ and yet, he did nothing about it. Still. Oh, he claimed he was working towards getting the four back, but where was the evidence? The progress?

There was none, because Dream had nothing to show for all the nothing he accomplish.

_"What do you ever even do? Make joy? Create smiles? Pathetic."_

_"Br... brother... t-that's mean..."_

_"The truth hurts," the other cooed. "Maybe you'd know that by now if **he** didn't keep you so shielded from the worlds. Oh, but he has to, doesn't he? After all, we can't expose pure, sweet Posi to all of **my** terrible, no good creations. He'll be upset at the way I perverted all of his good! Tch, that's all he ever cares about... keeping **you** happy. I'm sick of it."_

_"Brother..."_

_Claws flashed in the light, "I'm sick of yo-"_

Lightly, Dream touched his cheek. There was no scar, or mark. Just... smooth, perfect bone. _It healed up nicely._ Of course, that was a long time ago, too.

"Dream? Dream, are you okay?"

_"You... you're Dream! The Guardian of Positivity, and these golden apples!" he said, smiling, though Dream couldn't sense any genuine joy or happiness within him. He had a hand clenched around a half-full vial of yellow paint. "It's nice to meet you. I'm-"_

"We need to get them home," he murmured. "And I think I know a way."

"Your name... it ain't Dream."

Respite stilled and looked sharply at Spright. "What're..."

"You're right..." Dream turned and sat down across from them, still nursing his coffee pot. "Heh.... it's been a _real_ long time since I've seen you, Death the Younger. A long time, though not really. I remember Reaper carrying a babybones little brother who's wings hadn't even come in yet. It's good to see you healthy... And you, Spright... nothing can take the torment from your attack away, but I'm glad to see you've found a place for yourself here. A place that makes you happy..." Shaking his head slightly, Dream continued, murmuring, "As I said, it's thanks to you that I'm finally... back, whole, _here_ again... I am still Dream. But I... I used to go by the name Posi."

With the details from his featherless childhood, the god expected to have some recollection of the being before him. Maybe a mental itch or a sledgehammer of realization. Instead, it was more confusion. "Posi...?"

Golden eyes warmed.

"Short for Positivity."


	52. Cracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which applying too much pressure can often result in a bit of cracking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings**: Mild unwanted touching and torture, but nothing that's really all the descriptive!

Weeks or months or _years._ It didn't matter, what with the declaration Nightmare had just made. "Me...?" Ink busted up laughing. "No. I'm not the main character. I don't even know your story!"

"Oh, pet, you know it much more intimately than you seem to remember."

**"I'm not your pet,”** Ink hissed, the words out before he could stop them. Immediately, he froze, eyelights shrinking into frightened pinpricks as he glanced between the king and the captive seated on his lap. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Oh, you meant that." The honesty of the empath's hatred amused him. "You never did enjoy being called pet, no matter how true the name is... It seems that, even now, a part of you still remembers that hate. Shame, I rather enjoy the nickname."

"You're crazy," Ink whispered.

The hole within his SOUL proved that long, long ago. "Definitely, but I'd be more concerned about the fact that I'm _bored._ I'm running out of patience, love. When will you finally come back to me?"

"B-back?" Ink echoed. "I... I'm already _here!_ What more do you want from me? From us? What else is there to give you that you haven't already taken?"

Even Error seemed bewildered. _Ink and Nightmare...?_

_What are you offering?_ Nightmare wanted to tease. Instead, he dug claws into Error's thighs and murmured against his neck, "It's taking him such a long time... how did you ever fall for an idiot like that, lover?" Tendrils snapped around Error's wrists when he tried to rip the king's hands from his legs. "Hmm... I want you to say it. That delicious little word I taught you so long ago." Teeth shaped into a smile against bone. "The vert same word that I taught to your precious little brother. Say it, sweet little destroyer. _Lover. _Say it, and see if it'll actually make me stop." 

Emerald gazed deeply into reddening symbols.

_Will you stop me if he calls your name?_

Tears formed in Error's sockets from the pain as those claws inched up his thighs. "C... Cr... _Cree...!"_

_"Cree!" He said again, grinning as he finally got the other's attention. "There you are! Your body was here but you seemed so far away!"_

_"Yeah... heh, yeah I'm here-!"_

"You're _almost_ here," Nightmare corrected. "So close..." he sighed, two more tendrils now wrapping around Error in a slick mockery of an embrace that had the destroyer biting back a yelp. Disappointment and annoyance grew within him. "You stole this toy of mine away yet it isn't enough to bring you fully back. I _should_ just kill the three of them and drag in that yellow idiot instead. Maybe _then..."_

"Stop...!" Ink's eyes were on Error, the pain bleeding easily between the two had marks growing upon Ink's own body. "Stop it-!"

"The only thing fun about this is that, even with your SOUL restored, you still cannot control yourself or your powers. You always said you could and that you did. You never _ever_ had it figured out. Until _**I**_ taught you how." Nightmare's mouth skimmed Error's shoulder, though his eye stayed firm on Ink. "Don't you remember our lessons pet...?"

"C-Cree-!" Error seized at teeth sinking into bone. A sick mockery of what Nightmare had 'taught' Geno to do. And yet-

_"Cree! You...! You're Cree aren't you...?! Please...! Please help me...!"_

_"Yes, **pet.** Help them. Guide them into the next life that they may never cross paths with us again."_

_"N-no...!"_

Error shrieked sharply at a particularly loud snap sounded from his leg

Ink flinched, body lurching slightly forward. "Stop...!"

"Stop!" Nightmare mocked. "No. You're not ordering me around, pet. I am ordering _you."_

_Orders, demands, these restrictions, this collar-_

Something within Ink raged against it all, but he didn't know what it was, or what it wanted. All he knew was that the thing inside him was _angry. _"L...let him go... _Let him go, damnit!"_

Emerald gleamed, "Do you know how often he called for you? Your dear little destroyer that you doomed with your love? Do you even know how many times he called out your name, begging for his torment to end _just for you to never show? _Didn't you vow to protect your creations, pet? Didn't you used to go to such extremes just to keep those you claimed to love safe? You would have aimed for my throat the moment I so much as hinted at harming dear, sweet Posi..."

That strange something within him ached, then _burned._

"...and yet, you're letting me do _this," _Error screamed as a finger joined his broken leg, "to poor little Ruru. Isn't he special to you, pet? Or have I truly wasted all these months, all these _years,_ on playing with the wrong toys?"

Ink grit his teeth, stifling anger keeping his tongue still as he seethed.

"If you really don't care, then all I'm doing is wasting more time." Displeased, the king curled his hand around Error's neck next. "Call for him one more time, lover. And make this one count. You won't get anymore chances after this."

Terrified mis-matched eyes met crimson symbols.

"...C...Cree...." Error whispered. _Begged._

...

...

...

"I really should have gone for the gold," Nightmare sighed, grip slowly tightening. "Say goodbye, pet."  
  
_...Creak..._

Error choked, clawing viciously at Nightmare's hand.

_...Creak..._

Unfortunately, it was no use.

_...Creak..._

Nightmare was too strong.

_...Creak..._

And Ink...?

_...Creak..._

Ink was just standing there.

_...Creak..._

"...I... I...nk...y..."

** _...C r a-_ **

"Let him go, Negativity."


	53. Are You Positive?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream has his memories back, so he's ready to storm the castle! ...Right?

Respite stared at him. "Positi-"

"Yes," Dream interrupted, though he cringed at the rude behavior. "...please, just... just keep calling me Dream... it's a lot-" he rested his forehead in a palm and murmured, "There's... _so much. _A lot is missing, but there's still quite a bit I'm processing now, so thank you for the time you've given me but..._ please,_ try to not ask me questions about it. Not yet. Not... not until we get them home..."

"Which you could have done _months_ ago," Spright said, eyes boring into Dream's gaze. They flared with light at his tone, but he didn't let himself look away even as twin suns nearly scorched him with their heat. "I can't blame you for being afraid, Dream, I get that, but... but they're out there suffering and-"

"And I'm here doing nothing..." Dream sighed, resting the newly emptied pot of coffee down on the maker. "...I'm sorry, but... I still can't act, Spright. Not... not like this."

"But... but you're..." Res trailed off, unable to put reeling, incoherent thoughts into coherent words. "You are... you're a god. _More_ than a god, Lor- Dream. The stories-"

"What stories?" The golden eyed skeleton scoffed, immediately wincing afterwards at the sound of his own harsh voice. To the two before him, he seemed... conflicted. At odds with himself. "I checked the library of your king, and all the scholars I could recall. There's no stories left of us, deathling. What little scraps that remain has been fitted into a fantastical children's story. Cree and I have been erased. More foolish than that is the enemy that's been struck from history."

"The enemy-?" Respite paled slightly. "O-oh... you don't mean-"

"My- Lord Negativity. Unfortunately, erasing the three of us from history was nearly as foolish as releasing us..." Dream sighed heavily and looked to them. "I could- rather _should_ tell you two a tale, but I feel it more important to ask Asgore why they'e did it. Somehow, I doubt he's unaware of what took place, so surely he allowed our erasure. But why? Why would he- _he was our friend!" _ With determination, Dream kept his golden gaze from growing dull. There was no time for hurt feelings and sorrow. "Res, Spry, if you could look after the kids a little lon -"

"Why ask them more questions instead of ATTACKING NIGHTMARE _NOW?!"_ Spright finally snapped. "I felt bad about makin' ya eat that apple, but if all it did was make ya less willing to attack him, then... then jus' leave!"

_"If... if you're just gonna go byebye again, then... then dun come back! M'can take care of myself!"_

_"Little Star, please-"_

_"Go away!"_

Absentmindedly, Dream caught a tear and wiped the rest away before they could fall. _Who... whose voice is that...? _"...I know you're hurt, Spright, but I _cannot_ risk him getting the children should I fail. I _will not _let Negativity get to them, or either of you, so instead of rushing after him blindly, I need to plan. We need more resources; more power, more answers..." More time.

"What else is there that can help?!" Desperation building, Spright stepped up to Dream and grasped him by the shoulders, shaking as if knocking around his brain would bring sense to the other skeleton. "You know who you are now. You know who he is! Please, just- stop wasting time!"

"Spright, you- you're young. You don't under-"

"I understand that my brothers are being _tortured!_ I understand that _your_ brother used to hurt Error in ways he never wanted anyone to know about, and I understand that he hurt Geno the same. I understand that Reaper could be fucking _next,_ and that Ink- or...or whoever the fuck he is- is- I understand, Dream! Being centuries younger than you doesn't make me _dumb."_

"...If I march into that castle blind, I could end up dead, Spright. Or _worse._ You were in my head when my memories returned. You know that, for all I referred to him as such, Negativity isn't truly my brother. Maybe he cared for me as one, once upon a daydream, but walking in unprepared just puts him closer to getting the final edition to his original set of toys."

"You're very existence hurts him!"

“And _his_ hurts _me!_ It... nothing about this situation is simple, Spright. It was **never** that simple, even if none of us realized it."

Spright stared at him, searching his eyelights. "I... I need them back. Please, I... They're my brothers..."

"...I know..." he murmured. "I'm not ignoring them. _Or this._ I just... I need answers and _help_ if we're going to storm a castle that has been steeped in negativity for centuries. I need a strong, protective place for the children, and insurance that you or Res won't get caught."

"An' what about Sci?"

Dream glanced to Res, who murmured, "I know about the little ones."

"I'll need to talk with him as well... Spry... please be patient a little longer."

Unusually angry, the colorful skeleton merely huffed and turned back towards his food.

_I'm sorry, Spright..._ Dream thought, but didn't say. In that moment, more apologies would only upset the other skeleton more. "...I'll be heading out soon," he murmured, sighing.

Respite looked to him with a uncertain expression, "Are you... well? You've hidden yourself away for quite some time to... settle in, I assume? Are you fit for heading out?"

"Leave him, Res," Spright mumbled, "Clearly, he's gonna do whatever he wants to do."

"Spry..."

"...M'not sorry..."

Shaking his head, the Papyrus turned back to Dream with an apologetic smile that the guard- Pausing, Respite frowned, confused. "May... I ask another question...?"

"Shoot."

"Your title, is it... incorrect? You claim to be Lord Positivity, and yet... Are you not known as the _Guardian_ of Positivity? Are those titles one in the same, or....?"

Dream hesitated, thinking back on the voice with the face he couldn't remember at the time, telling him who he was: a "Guardian" when he awoke next to the tree with the apples and his brother. "I... am both. In a sense. R-rather, the me that is Dream is the guardian, and the me that is _me_ is Lord Positivity. But I'm also the guardian of positivity in the multiverse, to a degree..." He glanced to Spright, unsurprised that the other was doing his best to ignore him. "We've always balanced each other, but... there were some things that happened in our past that made him stronger, and with his recovered memories having happened _centuries_ ago, I really can't risk going in blindly..." Softer, "Even if I need to save them too."

"Tch."

Respite looked like he understood, if in part. "Spright and I have the kids... Dream."

"Thank you. I'll be back." He turned away, already imagining the portal he needed. _There's somebody I must talk to._

"...Lord Positivity," a tired voice sighed, greeting him as he appeared within a gilded throne room. "I wondered when this day would come. Welcome back."


	54. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a reunion, but not the one any of you were hoping for.

Nigh- _Negativity's_ green gaze brightened, corrupted joy glittering in his socket as a wide, foul smile slithered onto his expression. "Ah, there you are, pet. Welcome back."

His head ached worse than his broken leg as Ink stepped forward. "Let. Him. _Go."_

"Come now, dear... _Ink._ Do you truly believe that a few memories gives you the right to demand anything of me? I'm afraid that you're still my little captive, _Inky._ You're. Still. _Mine."_ Chuckling, the emerald eyed skeleton pressed a kiss to the back of Error's wounded neck. "Oh, and I bet that just... _bites."_

Error flinched at the sensation of sharp teeth sinking into his vertebrae.

Meanwhile, vivid memories flared to life in Ink's mind. Those same teeth digging into his bones, the deep timbre of that voice against him, blood and dust soaking his hands...

_"Finally, you're all mine, Cree."_

Magic blazed in his sockets. **"Let my husbands go, Negativity."** No longer were there symbols in Ink's eyes, but kaleidoscopic shapes that filtered through various colors in his sockets. The pain he seemed to be in moments ago vanished, and without a broken leg he stood taller to stare Negativity in the eye.

Error stared at him, sockets wide. _That... that isn't... _"I... In...ky..."

Nightmare's laughter sent little shocks of pain throughout Error's body, the teeth still pressing down into his bone painful with the shaking from the king's chuckles. _Fuck... fuck...!_ There was a dangerous creak as his already injured bone threatened to shatter, and Error's eyes flashed a crowded red from panic. 

His neck was going to break.

_His neck was going to-!_

"Ru..." Ink crooned, and what felt very much like a soft, gentle tug within his SOUL coaxed his flickering vision into focusing upon the artist. "It's okay, Ru. It's okay."

"I... In..." he tried, every inch of his form burning as Nightmare held him tighter, searing him with the close contact. "...I...I-I...n...k..."

"Ruru... my Error..."

Warmth blossomed within him, at odds with the terror and pain born from the situation he was in, but... comforting. Relaxing as it grew and weighed his lids with a sudden sleepiness. _What... what is...?_

"Sleep, Error," Ink cooed, voice soft and loving. Coaxing. "Sleep. Everything will be just fine when you wake, honey."

His... his neck still hurt...

Nightmare was still biting him... right...?

_"Sleep, Fringe."_

Error closed his eyes...

_"Sleep."_

...And slept.

"Impressive."

Those dizzying multi-colored eyes shot up to Negativity's, though Ink didn't make a move to get closer. Bored of his now sleeping toy, Negativity released Error and let him tumble off his lap and to the floor before standing and steadily stalking towards his empath. "You _do_ remember some of the things I taught you."

"I do."

Grinning wider, the Lord of Nightmares purred, "I would be tempted to release your husbands in exchange for _you,_ but... well, I'm a generous master, so I won't. Instead, go ahead, _Inky._ Take your ragdoll and return to you room. Heh, leave if you even want-"

"Not without Geno's SOUL."

"...Ah, then I suppose you're staying a little longer, hmm?"

Gritting his teeth together, Ink stepped closer and growled, "What is this about, Negativity-?"

"No."

Blinking, Ink frowned and narrowed his gaze slightly. "No what."

"Come now, don't tell me that you forgot?"

_Forgot...?_ Oh. "Fine, _Neggy,_ why are you really doing this?"

Pleased, the king of the castle smiled. It made him want to knock those perfect, pretty teeth out. "I have my reasons, love."

_I'm not your fucking love...!_ Not anymore. It was the skeleton before him who went to drastic lengths to ensure that Ink would never truly be his _love._ "Stop it with the names, Neggy. The only 'yours' I am at this point is your fucking enemy, so just drop the bullshit and tell me _what do you want?_ What do you _really_ want, because I know it isn't Reaper, or Geno, or Error... and somehow, I doubt it's even _me,_ either."

"Quite the accurate assumption from someone who allows his toys to call him an idiot."

"My husbands are _not_ toys," Ink snarled.

"And yet, you're letting poor little _Fringe_ lay sprawled across the floor right now like one of his little dolls. Goodness, it seems like he's putting weight onto the nasty little break in his leg. And his neck... _ouch, _he'll surely be sore with that angle." Emeralds sharpened, threatening to cut Ink with their gaze alone.

_When did he open his other eye-_

"Luckily, I'm in a good mood now that you're awake, so I'll allow you... one question. Yes, one question and a single answer to go with it, so choose wisely, pet. Do you _truly_ want to know my reasons as to why you're here, or is there something else you'd like to know more?" Negativity smiled, the expression almost sweet.

_Posi's smile... he stole that fucking expression from Posi-_ His SOUL skipped a beat, then nearly stopped working altogether. _Pos...!_

"Well?"

_YES. I want to know why the fuck you captured all of us!! Why were you trying so hard to get me my memories back? Do you think you're gonna get away with this? What have you done to Posi and the rest of my family?_

"What will it take for you to let my family go, completely?"

"What a dull question," Negativity sighed, disappointed.

_A dull-!_ Ink was quick to stomp down on his frustration.

Stars above, it was a difficult thing to do though. Dealing with Nightmare had been frustrating at times, but the fear and concern for his family always managed to override any annoyance felt over the king's behavior. One wrong slip was all it would take for Nightmare to rain hell upon them. That was still true now, but...

Where ‘Nightmare’ was annoying, Negativity was downright _unbearable_ to interact with when the skeleton felt... _playful._

"You owe me an answer."

Negativity smirked, "...Well, I suppose the answer is simple enough. The four- oh, my apologies. The _six_ of you will be free to go once I'm... satisfied. Or bored. Whichever one comes first, really."

_Satis-?!_

"Nah ah ah!" Negativity chuckled, sliding a tendril under his chin. "I can tell by that little look in your eyes. I said one question, and you got your one answer. So why don't you take your _fraying_ ragdoll back to your room, love? I'll play with you more later."

_The six of us. He means to let us **all** go....?_

_Fuck, **when**....??_

_…and in what way….?_

When Ink didn't move, Negativity glanced back to him and crooned, "Unless you wanted some fun with me now...? Missed me so much that you wish to fall into bed with me, _my_ love? That's not the form of satisfaction I meant, but I won't say no to a intimate reunion with you, pet. "

"Tch," Ink scowled and stepped around him to gingerly pick Error up, careful of his injuries. He didn't like the way his first husband drooped in his arms, very much like the overgrown ragdoll Negativity accused him of being. "You do know the reason why I've not attacked you, yes?"

Negativity yawned and glanced back to him. "Yes... we wouldn't want anything to happen to poor, precious little Genocide, would we? How is he, by the way?" The emerald eyed skeleton smiled knowingly. "Still asleep?"

Ink avoided his gaze as he made his escape with Error in arms. His shoulders curled inward just enough that Negativity's grin widened more. _Nearly broken..._

Again, a tongue flickered out.

"Delicious."


	55. Hypocrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream has a chat with an old friend.

"...Thank you," Dream murmured, centuries of an intense desire to please others bringing forth a politeness he didn't exactly want to portray in that moment. "Judging by your greeting, I assume that you were expecting my presence today?"

"Today, tomorrow... I've always known that you would reappear within my castle, Lord Positivity." Weariness creased Asgore's forehead and saddened his eyes. "...It's been a long time, my friend."

"Am I? Still your friend, _King_ Asgore? Because you claim me as such, and yet you've allowed my name to fall into obscurity. _Cree's_ name, despite all that he's done for you and your kind." His voice fell into a soft whisper, melancholy in his tone. "...The gods of the multiverse... the first of Cree's creations..."

"Not the first," Asgore reminded him, gaze pointed.

There was more Dream than Positivity in his bitter smile. "...No, not his first, but the first that followed the primordial beings, and those who he showed favoritism to before his... end."

"His end-"

"Which brings me to why I'm here," Dream pushed. "Why have you not aided us?"

"...I'm sure you know why, milord."

Usually, that title would upset Positivity and he'd be squirming and desperately trying to get Asgore to call him by his name. Today, Dream didn't give a single shit. "Tell me yourself."

"Negativity warned us against interfering."

"Why?"

Now uncomfortably readjusting his posture in his seat, Asgore murmured, "I did not question the one that could completely destroy this world why he decided to capture them, milord. I merely chose to protect this place."

Dream grit his teeth. "A classic king, huh? Protect what's yours?"

"Is that not what your aim is as well?"

He took a step forward, then another, and several more until his face was in Asgore's furry one. "I'm here to rescue my family, and to continue my _job_ in keeping positivity within each world. However... I wouldn't need to look to this world, if Positivity vanished, would I?"

Spineless in the face of true, incomprehensible power, Asgore dropped his gaze and bowed his head. Respectfully, some would say.

In his anger, Dream saw it as a pitiful, pathetic act. "Do you know where your Lord Creativity now resides, Asgore of The First World?"

"Lord Creativity has been dead for many years now, Lord Positivity." Awkwardly, the king added, "My... condolences for your loss... I... I know that you two were..."

"Do I look as though I'm mourning the loss of my husband?" Dream snapped, eyelights flaring bright enough to blind. "Cree is alive, Asgore. Changed, but alive... and in the hands of the enemy once more."

"I-"

"Because _you_ allowed the others to forget us, nobody is aware how of severely this has affected the multiverse. I'm... greatly displeased, I'll have you know, so if you're not to help me, tell just me now. I'd like to not waste what precious time he has left hoping you'll aid me."

The raw fear that flickered in the god King's eye was nothing compared to the regret.

"...You're more afraid of Negativity than of me," he realized. "You believe he holds a greater threat."

"If he has Lord Creativity, as you've claimed, then yes. Many apologies, milord-"

"That's enough of that," Dream murmured. "I'm done here. Pray that Cree changes my mind when he comes back, Asgore."

"Milord-"

"I. Am. _Done._ You allowed not only for _my husband _ to fall into Negativity's hands, but one of _your_ very own gods. You have failed as an ally, _and_ as a king."

"...I had no choice..."

"There is always a choice, Asgore," Positivity murmured, "and while you may have protected your people for the time being, you put the entire multiverse at risk in order to do so."

"You would have done the same! If it were a choice between damning those you cared for or the multiverse, you-"

Without further comment, Positivity disappeared.

He was well aware of his own hypocrisy.


	56. The Simple Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new introductions are required, and finally y'all get some answers, huh? XD

When Error next awoke, it was a startled, near violent thing. He sat up sharply with arms flailing and sweat gleaming on his skull. Reaper glanced over in concern, crooning his name, "It's okay Ru, you're safe, you're okay," he reassured, Geno offering a small smile from his lap.

Ink sat nearby, nervously fidgeting with a broken pen. "Error....?" He murmured softly. "How are you feeling?"

_A snap and the intense pain in his neck-_ a hand flung to his neck-

No injuries...? Or bandages?

He dropped his gaze down to his broken leg- _oh but that wasn't broken either?_ A.... a dream...? Does that mean-?

Ink must've seen the glimmering hope because he murmured, "I'm sorry, honey..."

Like a flower exposed to frozen air, Error's hope wilted. "What... what happened...?"

"...Error..." Ink began, hesitant. His symbols were gone. Replacing them, those strange, multi-colors shapes that filled the empty space within his sockets; unnatural, ever-changing voids of color that shimmered vibrantly, but didn't belong to _his_ Ink. "I..."

"No... n-no excuses," The destroyer was quick to interrupt. "What h-happened. My neck, my leg... were we allowed more cream? Did Horror come by with food? Did-" he froze, terrified. "Did you make a fucking deal?!"

Ink blinked slowly and dropped his gaze, "I didn't. Err- _Ru,_ I promise I didn't make a deal, hon.... I was the one that healed you."

_What...?_ "But you can't- you don't know how!"

"...." Ink raised his gaze and murmured, "It's something I had forgotten."

_Forgot?_ There was a lot that Ink didn't remember, Error knew, though even he had to admit that the empath's issues with his memory seemed to have lessened drastically within the last few months. Still... "How t-the _fuck_ do you forget your own abilities?"

"How indeed..." Ink murmured. "Error, there's... there's a lot more going on than any of us realized. Given, not everyone had the right information to access the truth, but... this?" he motioned to the room around them, to the castle. "This is... it's more than you understand..."

"Then explain it."

"...I don't know if I can," the empath admitted. _I don't know if I **want** to._

Almost immediately, Reaper called him out. "Can or want to, Ink? Just... tell us. Please."

Ink met their gazes. His husbands, though it pained him that they weren't the only ones. Well, information could come quick as a band-aid being ripped off right? "My name is Ink, but it's _also_ Creativity, and we're in the Castle of Negativity."

Reaper stared at him, the itch of memories long forgotten growing stronger with the recent stories Nightmare had tried to tell him. "C-Creat....ivity...?"

Error narrowed his gaze and scowled fiercely. "Ink... s-stop fucking around," he demanded, even as he took in the truth. The extra exhaustion within his husband's posture, though the ancient and semi-regal way he held himself despite that weariness. The eyes so different from the changing symbols Error was used to. The way Reaper looked like he was going to collapse to his knees if he hadn't already been sitting on the bed, and Geno's sudden wary expression as he watched the artist closely, unsurely.

"Stars, Ru, I wish I were."

Ink thought of broken bones and scars. Of instances where Negativity took pleasure without consent and rewarded obedience with lies and pain. He thought of many things, and how those terrible, horrible deeds were no longer exclusive to what he lived, but horrors shared among his husbands.

"...I truly wish I was..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Dusk, I believe I owe you a flash fic? :3 Great job, btw! - TK


	57. A Simple Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two lovely skeletons have a simple little chat.

The moment Dream reappeared in his home The Doodle Sphere, he dropped to his knees and covered his sockets with his palms, pressing hard. "You're supposed to be finding help, not burning bridges you useless fucking idiot...!" he shouted, hopeful that neither Blue or Stretch would hear from their temporary rooms.

_Gods why did that sound like him?!_ Why did every bad thing sound like something Negativity would taunt him with?

_"Poor naive little idiot."_

He shrieked into his hands, curling more into himself. _Fuck...!_ his old self would've balked at such language, but again, he didn't care. _Fuck…! **Fuck!** Cree....! Cree I'm s-sorry...!_ It wasn't just to him that he was sorry. It was to Error and Geno. Reaper and Respite. Spright and the kids. Fuck, the multiverse itself. _I'm sorry...!_

It hadn't been something he considered looking into until he was at Asgore's. To sense how strong Negativity's castle was now. Even casually skimming past the place nearly left Dream with hypothermia. _Fuck...!_ he cried and raged and cried again. When he finally calmed enough to think logically, he pulled the ancient sketchbook from his inventory into his hands. What he had told himself Ink would criticize was really Ink's beginnings as Cree. His sketches and ideas-

Dream clutched it tighter to his chest and sobbed. "I don't know how to free you without being an idiot...! Stars, Cree... you'd jump in and act before thinking logically. You _always_ did that, but I.... I c-can't...! I need a plan, I need allies, _I need you...!"_

Sobbing, he cried harder, calling out, "Cree! _Cree!"_

But nobody came.

———

Emerald orbs flashed, staring off into the distance with a sudden sharpness. "...Well now, isn't _that_ quite a pretty despair...? I almost forgot _your_ taste as well..." Smiling, he called forth shadows to drag him into their dark, unsettling embrace. He had an old friend to see.

———

"...Posi," a familiar voice purred from behind.

_No...!_ Golden eyes flared to life as he whirled around and summoned his spear immediately. "N-Negativity," he hissed.

"Oh, my dear sweet baby brother," the skeleton in question cooed.

"We are _not_ brothers."

"You finally realized that, did you?" Negativity's eyes shone brightly. "It only took you... well, I really couldn't care less."

Roughly wiping at the tears that would label him a baby, he glared, "So you're here."

"As are you."

"Let them go!"

"Ugh how boring."

"B-boring? _Boring?!"_ All the good within him swiftly turned to rage. "This isn't one of your fucking games, Neggy! The lives you're toying with? They matter. _Cree_ matters and-"

"Like I said," Negativity interrupted, "**Boring.** I didn't come here for a lecture, little Posi. I also didn't come here for a fight, though I understand if you're reluctant to believe me." Almost curious, the other skeleton slowly twirled, gaze flickering about. "My, this place certainly went to the dogs."

It clicked far, far too late. _He's in the Doodle Sphere...!_ Not just that, but the grinning, emerald eyed skeleton was only a room away from Ink's representations of the others world. If Negativity got to them... If Negativity somehow discovered _him-!_

"Relax, Posi," Negativity crooned, "I'm not here for the multiverse either. I'm merely here for a... visit, you could say. A chat."

_...What...? No.... n-no it's more than that...! He- he's gonna-_

"A chat," Posi repeated, narrowing his blurred gaze slightly. His shoulder tensed more as he murmured, "Fine, I'll bite, what do you want to _chat_ about Neggy?"

"Oh, it's actually quite simple," smiling, Negativity stepped forward.

Stubbornness alone kept Positivity from backing away. "Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you, Neggy."

"Oh, I assure you that this is. You see, I'm well aware that you're searching for a way to storm my home in order to rescue poor, adoring Cree from my clutches. Oh, and the other ones, I'm sure. The thing is..." Negativity's smile widened. "I want you to stop."

There was no hesitation on Dream's part, just a quick, firm, "No."

"Ah, let me rephrase that... _You **will** stop, else I'll do away with my current plans by crushing their SOULs before your very eyes, **brother."**_

_You can't kill Cree. You won't kill the others._

Positivity wasn't so sure.

"What are you doing with them?" He demanded. "What are your plans?"

"Does it matter?" Negativity paced around him. "My plans are changing anyways, _Posipaws_. I'm afraid my progress has been much too slow, so I decided to change things up. All I need from you to reach my goal is patience."

"...Why are you telling me this?"

Negativity chuckled and murmured, "What did I just say? I need patience from you, _brother._ So, be patient with me. Isn't that what you kept telling me so long ago? Because you let yourself stay sheltered by Creativity for so long that you were afraid to learn? Well, it's your turn. Be patient with me and my process, Posipaws. You'll get your fuckbuddies back soon."

"They're not-"

Vile amusement. "Oh yes... you never did get that far with any of them. Well, you'll get your precious fuck _buddy_ and the rest of your intended conquests back soon. Is that better?"

"...No," he growled. "No, that... that _isn't_ better, and 'soon' isn't good enough for me, either. I want Cree and _my boyfriends_ back **now**, Negativity. And I'm not afraid to go to war against you if you refuse."

"And I'm not afraid to kill them as you watch, Posi. Now, is that a risk you're _really_ willing to make? Would the great Positivity really wish death upon his loved ones?" His fingers trailed across a bookshelf as he murmured, “But go for it. You want a war? You can have one. But you won’t win them back in it.”

"..."

"That's what I thought. Of course... you're always welcome to join my experiment, little brother. I wouldn't say no to you're willing obedience."

Dream grit his teeth, growled, "Just leave, _Nightmare."_

"Whatever you say, _Dream,"_ Negativity chuckled, warped fondness in his eyes before his form melted away.

It was only after he ensured the fiend's absence that Dream allowed himself to cry yet again.

_...Cree..._

Exhausted by his own sorrow, the golden-eyed skeleton wiped his eyes and glanced around. Luckily, he couldn't feel anything from Blue that implied he realized that Dream was even here, or upset. He adored the younger skeleton, but... he didn't want the comfort of a friend at the moment. He didn't really want to head back home and face the others either. 

"...I... I wonder if I remember where Ink's paints come from..." They were fuzzy, but he could somewhat recall memories of a waterfall of color, and a special lake. "I... just want to pretend you're here, just for a bit." 

If he couldn't have Cree with him now, then the source of the vials he depended on would have to do.


	58. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, but Ink isn't a flower and Error isn't dealing with this shit now.

"Who the fuck is Creativity?" Error snapped, purposefully ignoring the fact that Ink was claiming to be an entirely new _person._ "Reaps, you know him?"

"I.... I yeah... yeah I knew him. I... think? I was... young. Really, really young, so... so it was before my _wings_ came in..." Still, if he tried, Reaper could somewhat recall fuzzy memories of a skeleton that once seemed so large from the viewpoint of a child. "S-stars... Lord Creativity...."

"Reaps-"

_"Lord_ Creativity?!" Error snapped, gaze boring into Ink's. "Since when have you been a lord of anything?!"

"...Error... honey, I... these are the memories I lost."

Error glared, "That doesn't explain shit!"

In hindsight, Ink realized that the destroyer was correct. Acknowledging that didn't make it any easier to provide his angry husband with an answer though. "It's... complicated, Ru."

"Then _un_complicate it!"

"Error-"

"He... he's a god, Error," Reaper whispered, the emotions within him working together to discomfort Ink. Awe, admiration, respect... fear... "No, he... Ink- Lord Creativity- **he** is _more_ than that. He's a god among gods- above gods, really."

"...Primordial," Ink added, sighing.

"H-he... he's.... y-y-you're a fucking _what?!_ N-No..." laughing, Error shook his head and kept denying. "No. No you're not. You're a... a brainless idiot who labelled himself the protector of the multiverse....! You... you're the dumbass squid that g-got me o-out of this...! The p-parent to PJ, my f-first husband, you-!" He was now shaking, sockets wide and void of lights as he tried to process this. "No... no you're _just Ink._ You...."

"I'm the idiot that fostered the beginning of the multiverse, Ru," Ink sat down by him, though knew better than to touch his husband yet. "I'm the one you fell in love with and had a child with and married. I _am_ Ink. I was simply Creativity first." Those strange eyes shifted to Geno, but the glitch, oddly quiet on Reaper's lap, avoided his gaze in favor of burrowing further into their winged husband so instead, Ink shifted his gaze to Reaper. "I'm all of your husbands. _I haven't changed,_ except for my memories coming back."

_Haven't changed...?_ Reaper dropped his gaze, shrinking in on himself slightly and holding Geno closer. _But... you're the first Primordial. You're Cree-_

_The first, but not the only one._ The god's gaze snapped back to Ink's, panic in his chest. "There... th-there are two others."

Ink avoided Reaper's gaze, ashamed. _This is all my fault,_ he thought bitterly, knowing that if he had just done better, _been_ better, the first time around, none of this would be happening. "Reaps..."

"Where are the other two?" Reaper questioned, and even that was spoken in a stilted, polite tone. For all he was desperate to know the answer, the god couldn't seem to shake his need to appease the taller skeleton before him. "They... they were never far from you, correct? If you're here, then where the others?"

"...Do you really not remember, Deathling?"

Horror crept it's way into Reaper's very core. "This isn't Nightmare's castle."

"Oh Reapsy," Ink whispered, "I'm sorry, but... _it is._ Nightmare, Negativity... they're one in the same, though I... I tried so hard to change that. Nightmare... he was meant to be better. _Kinder."_ After a pause, he whispered, “Healed…”

"What?" Error rasped, barely following along with everything. "Nightmare is... is what? This Negativity asshole? No. **No.** He's Nightmare, Dream's fucking bastard of a brother-"

Reaper rushed to interject, voice trembling, "Dream's _Brother._ Does... does that mean-"

Ink nodded.

And something in Error _s n a p p e d._ "Stop saying shit that I don't understand! Who the fuck is Negativity? Or Nightmare? Or whatever the hell you want to call him! Who is he, and why does it fucking matter that he's anyone other than the bitch that _had Geno captured?!_ **Us** captured! And if he's whoever, what does that mean about Dream? **What the fuck am I missing?!**”

Hoarsely, Reaper murmured, "There are three Primordials. Creativity is the first, and therefore the oldest." At this, the god again glanced away from Ink, though turned towards Error to explain. "The other two are Negativity and Positivity. Created by the first to help with a balance in the world."

"It was supposed to be more," Ink added, almost to himself. When Reaper didn't continue, Ink did. "There was some... shit that happened between the three of us, mostly between Negativity and myself, that caused me to lose my SOUL and lock them away. But without my SOUL... well, you met me as Ink. You remember me better without it. But... Dream and Nightmare... they were supposed to be better. To _guard_ their respective concepts from others. To keep a balance."

"S...so.... I... w-with Nightmare-"

"If you met him after the apples, Ru, then you never met who Negativity _should've_ been."

_"Hm...? You want to know about my thing with apples?" At his nod, Nightmare chuckled and reached a hand out to beckon him closer. "Now why would you want to know about that?"_

_Grinning, Error accepted the hand and let himself be tugged into the other's embrace. The magic Nightmare secreted was cool, but there was a warmth beneath the slickness that he pressed into, uncaring of the way the slick stained his clothing. Nightmare could call it back to himself later. "Does it matter why?"_

_Teeth skimmed his chin, then claimed his mouth for a long, drawn out kiss. "Mmm..." Shorter than Error, Nightmare had to tug him down just to kiss his skull. Lovingly. It made Error feel... special. "I suppose not. That tale isn't very interesting though, lover." Teasingly, he trailed his kissed down, down, down until he found the destroyer's neck. "We could engage ourselves with something so much more... pleasant."_

_"Too bad, I want to know."_

_Pulling away slightly, Nightmare grinned, "I ate an apple years ago, it benefited me, and now you're going to either give me your report on the artist like you're meant to, or drop to your knees and suck me off."_

_Tch, again with the artist? He still didn't understand why Nightmare kept sending him out to observe the little shit. The guy was a major idiot. "I don't feel like talking about that fucker."_

_"Oh? Well then..." A surprisingly strong hand pressed on his shoulder, urging him down. "I suppose you better get to pleasuring me then, lover. I'll get that report..." An approving noise, "...later."_

"E-easy there- R-Ru...? Error..?!" Ink's alarmed voice sounded.

The destroyer clamped his jaw shut, shaking his head once before nearly bolting to the nearest bathroom and hurling every bit off food he had within him.

A soft, "I'm gonna check on him," was Geno's excuse for leaving the room, though Reaper was quick to insist that he was still in no shape to be walking and therefore carried him out,

Left alone in the room was Ink, desperately feeling like what fragile relationship he had with his husbands was falling through his fingers.


	59. Out of Options, Out of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, sometimes, all you can do to help is wait.

There was one last place to be. One last _person_ to talk to, and Positivity was almost certain he didn't want to do this, but it was his last chance before heading home to give Spright and Res the news.

"Core."

The child smiled, "Welcome back Lord Positivity."

"You knew." It wasn't a question.

Still, the child pretended otherwise. "I did," they agreed, "though it isn't all that surprising, is it? I know many things, Lord Positivity. Past, present, future... all the possibilities of every tense... It's quite a bit to keep track of, I'll admit. Sometimes, things blur... oh, but I'm getting off track, aren't I? You're here... either because you want to scold me, battle, discuss a little star, or..." Their expression twisted. "I do hope this isn't the timeline where his corruption got to you. Those always go so... dark."

"Core."

"Ah, that's a scolding tone. Definitely the first option then, good. Good."

_"Core."_

"Yes, M'lord?"

Positivity took a deep breath and let it go. "I need your help. And if it isn't _your_ specific help, then I need you to help me gather an army to raid Negativity's castle."

"...." Core turned away, fingers to their chin. "Is this the timeline where everyone dies and I should deny it, or will the army even be necessary...? Or is this the one where I cannot see past it or the one where the twins destroy themse-"

"Does it _matter,_ Core?" For all the patience Positivity usually boasted, Dream was finding it difficult to keep. "I'm asking for your assistance with something. Tell me plainly if you can help or not."

They shot him a sidelong glance. "You don't have any other options this time do you?"

"I have one left."

They blinked. Then, "Oh. _Oh...."_

"Help me."

"...If I'm correct, this isn't the timeline where you agree to join him, but tell me, Lord Positivity," Core's head tilted, "Is this a timeline in which you've spoken to Negativity before seeking me out?"

That wasn't an agreement to help him. And yet, it also wasn't a denial. "Does that even matter though? I am asking for your _help_, not your opinion on the conversation that... that fucking _bastard_ and I."

"I assure you, Milord, it is quite relevant. Please, answer the question."

"...Fine," Dream huffed, "Yes, I spoke to my br- to Negativity before my arrival."

"Ah..."

"Now, answer _my_ question. Will you help me, Core?"

"No."

"And why the _fuck_ not?"

"This is probably the one where he's told you to be patient or something right? In which case, the husbands come home safe and the kids are fine. But.... if I helped you, they will all die. He will rip the children from their womb. Set fire to your house with those four inside. Force Cree to fight and kill you to try to save the others." Core shook their head once. "I've said far too much... accept my denial as... a warning. Do what you can at home. Perhaps, try for a swim in that lake you favor; the one that color never taints."

"I don't have time to be wasting _swimming, _Core! Do you expect me to laze around and leave them to Negativity to toy with?"

"Yes."

Dream expected the answer. Knowing it was going to come did little to lessen the direct blow to his heart at the confirmation from Core. "What am I going to tell the others, Core? Spright, Res... they know I have the means of holding my own against Negativity. Now that my memories are back, they're expecting me to-"

_"Honestly," Negativity sighed, "Why do you do this to yourself, Posi? Run yourself ragged trying to be what everyone expects you to be? It's bleeding you dry, exhausting you."_

_"I... I just want to make others happy..."_

_"Tch, focus on yourself first, little Posipaws. You don't need to be a people pleaser all the time." Gently, the elder primordial stroked his skull, much like the older brother he denied acting as. "You need to learn to be selfish. Don't let your fear of upsetting others ruin you."_

Tears akin to a shower of stars fell from his eyes. "...But it doesn't matter what they're expecting me to do, does it? All that's important is what I _must_ do in order to ensure their safe return."

Core watched him with an empty yet sympathetic gaze. "Return home, Milord. Rest, and prepare. Consider that swim too, if you think you'll need more than the children awaiting you at home to distract you from your urge to rush into battle." Respectfully, they bowed their head. Polite. Regretful, in their own way. "Goodbye."

He ignored the way Core seemed to vanish. All his thoughts were focused on the husbands, and the preparations for the newborns. Numbly, he turned and stepped through a portal back... home? Was this home? The elder children were there. Spright and Respite were there. The husbands' things were there.

_...but something is missing... so many things are missing..._

Either way, Dream was there now, walking past the living room and straight to the kitchen, and the fridge. Inside, he pulled the wine nobody had seemed to want to touch. It was uncorked and completely gone before he registered that Spright was staring at him with surprised mixed horror. "Dream?"

Dream dropped the bottle in the recycling and stared at him. "...Guess I'm a failure."

Spright stared, stunned. "..."

There was only surprise in his silence, but in his shame, Dream heard ridicule and accusations he couldn't deny. Chuckling bitterly, he slumped back against the fridge. It would take more than a single bottle to affect him, unfortunately. "I thought I could help them. With just a little more time, I thought I could storm the castle and save our family. But I can't, Spright." He laughed again, spiteful. Angry at himself.

"...What do you mean...?"

"Negativity himself appeared before me. Gave me an ultimatum. Either I standby like a good, docile boy and _wait_ for him to release them on his own, or he murders them all. I hoped it was all talk, but another source confirmed it. If I interfere in _any_ way, they die. Horrifically, it seems like. And not just them, either. No, you, Res, the other children..." Dream watched his glittering tears hit the ground. "Everyone dies if I act."

"So... we just sit...? Sit'n wait....?"

Dream couldn't bring himself to confirm beyond more tears falling.

Spright frowned a little, looking a little lost. "Dream-"

The primordial flinched and turned away. "D-don't..."

He didn't want to hear Spright's questions, or even any comfort the colorful skeleton was unlikely to provide. At the end of the day, Dream failed.

That was the only thing that mattered.


	60. Tri-Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dream is a bit of a try hard... with very little success to his name.

Warnings and news from every source he relied and didn't rely on wasn't enough to keep Dream from finding something, _anything_, to get the husbands out faster, despite his telling the others to stop.

To get _Cree_ out faster....

Core would frequently visit him and demand he stop trying, suggesting he turn his attention elsewhere and often attempting to distract him with honeyed sweets or talk of long swims. When that failed to work, the empty eyed child always turned their focus to the facts: Trying to help would would only further guarantee the death of one of the captured husbands. Perhaps more than one, depending on Nightmare-Negativity's-mood at the time. Their annoying insistence was nearly as bad as Ink's had been- and those thoughts never failed to foul Dream's mood as he chased the child away.

Like clockwork, they would swoop in the next day to try and distract him.

It was nearly two weeks of this when... well nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that unnerving nothingness had the positive primordial searching out the child. Given that they existed everywhere and nowhere, it was nearly impossible to find where their body was, until-

_BRRRRNG!_

Startled, Dream dropped a hand to his pocket, wasting no time to withdraw it and stare dumbly at the name.

"Inky~ <3"

Emotion won over logic. Without a single moment of sensible hesitation, Dream accepted the call and brought his phone up to his ear. "Ink-"

"Good afternoon, _brother."_

His heart stopped.

"Strange, it seems as if your sound cut off. Oh, unless you've simply been stunned into silence? How... delightful. And stupid. I mean, you truly thought poor, sweet Inky was calling you? Honestly, brother, I expected more sense from you."

_Someone's feeling conversational._ "What do you want?"

"So cold."

"I'm not playing your games, _brother._ What do you want?"

"You're always playing my games, _little_ brother. Just as others are doing. Quite nicely, I might add. Speaking of, who knew my pet was good at fetch? I knew I trained him to kill very well. Sometimes too well, since some of his catches don't always make it back to me in one piece."

_Gods.... Cree..._

Still, Nightmare continued, "See, I requested Core's presence, and yet they don't show. So I sent my pet to fetch. I wanted to make sure they kept their end of things."

"You have Core-?"

"Not exactly. But it's in our mutual interest that my pet merely _fetches_... isn't it? I vaguely remember you two idiots talking about how important this child would be to helping others, correct? I wouldn't want my pet trying to replace them to get away from me." There was a low chuckle. "Of course... _I'm_ not the one with things to lose."

"...What do you want?" Dream growled, voice low and empty of all warmth. And yet, while he could manage a cold, angry tone, he couldn't quite keep the pain out of his heart. _Why did you have to become this? Why did you **choose** to be this... this monster?_

"I've been... amusing myself to the best of my abilities. I'm growing bored though, you see. I figured... why not turn to you for help? We used to play together all throughout our youth, did we not? So, what do you say? Want to play my game, Dream?"

_No, we didn't. You always turned me away._ "You already made it clear that I don't have a choice."

"Come now, there's _always_ a choice."

_Comply, or send them all to their deaths._ "Tch, what do you want me to do?"

"Go visit your... _boyfriend._ Heh.... actually, go rescue Core. Last I knew, they were in one of the FellSwaps. Or was it one of the SwapFells? Eh, doesn't matter. It's the one that's mostly destroyed."

With that, Dream started to pull the phone away-

"One more thing," Nightmare's distant voice called out. He waited until Dream grunted a 'what' before saying, "You'll have a hard time convincing Inky to give you the child. Or maybe you won't? Heh, I know you'll surprise me, _little brother." Click!_

Dream stared down at the phone as the dial sound continued to ring. Distantly, he thought about Cross taking their phones. How was it that he never considered Nightmare with access to those very phones? To what information was stored there?

Gritting his teeth, he pocketed both the phone and the thought for now. The mostly destroyed SwapFell or FellSwap? Fine.

It shouldn't be hard to convince his Ink to let Core go...

———

_I'm getting really tired of being wrong,_ is all Dream could think of when, upon his first step into the AU, paint spikes nearly skewered him.

What was most unnerving about that 'nearly' was the fact that Dream himself didn't even need to dodge. No, the spikes came close to hitting him, but missed the golden eyed guardian by a hair. Purposefully. _A warning shot..._

"Turn back, guardian. There's nothing here for you."

_You're here._ Straightening his spine, Dream turned his gaze away from the sharp, deadly points of the attack at his side in order to meet Ink's eyes. "I'm here for Core. Nothing more, nothing less. If you hand them over peacefully, then I'll leave."

"You'll leave without them," Ink shot back, blandly. There was no emotion in his voice, nor his eyes. Instead, white eyelights merely watched him, bleached in an attempt to hide the turmoil wrecking havoc within Ink from the shorter skeleton. _He's wearing that stupid mask again..._ "I'll give you one more chance: Leave. Now."

"You know I can't do that, Ink."

"And you know what I’ll do if you don't."

"What.... you'll hurt me?" Dream's smile was a sad one. "Your mask is holding up well. Fine craftsmanship, as always." Still did nothing to hide the symbols. When he didn't respond, Dream stepped around the spikes and continued, "You're not going to get in trouble for giving Core over, and you're not going to kill them."

"Oh, you're sure about that?" Ink murmured. As of the moment, it didn't even seem like Core was there. Any attempts to find them through their emotions was more a waste than anything else. "Are you ordering me around too?"

"I'm telling you like it is..."

Ink shook his head, forming that palette knife he decided would go well with this new persona. "It doesn't matter. It's a trick isn't it _Negativity._ You're simply testing my 'loyalty' to you." His voice wavered just slightly when he murmured, "If it takes me fighting you in this form, then I will."

_....oh that fucker...._ Dream frowned slightly. "Inky, look at my emotions-"

"Another trick."

"Because Neggy is _so good_ at being _happy,"_ Dream shot back sarcastically. "Pure, uncorrupted joy? Yeah, he loves that. _Not._ Be reasonable, Ink. Look at my emotions, at _me,_ and see."

"Nice try," Ink murmured, "but... you've just made one very big mistake, _my lord."_

"Ink-"

"Dream doesn't remember who _Neggy_ is." With that, the artist gripped his knife and darted forward, a sneer hidden behind his mask as he aimed for the so-called guardian's throat. "You, me... he doesn't remember _any_ of it!" Swipe. "And I'm not going to let you succeed in using Posi against me like some sort of cheap trick!"

Left with no other choice, Dream caught Ink's wrist during his next swipe and tossed him away. "Will you use your brain?! I don't want to fight!"

It wasn't with words, but the message was clear. _Well, I do!_ He stepped through a shortcut and appeared by Dream's side, slashing the palette knife that dripped with dark ink.

Dream just barely leapt aside, his sleeve getting torn instead of his whole arm."Ink!"

The once-white lights turned to something like a crimson red, maybe a few shades darker, and a shield akin to Cross' came slamming down around the artist's emotions so hard that Dream physically had to step back to regain control of his own abilities.

"How far do you plan to take this until you're satisfied?" Ink demanded, flicking a piece of fabric caught on the tip of his blade away. "How long is this game going to last?"

"This isn't a game, Ink!" Dream tried, though his words fell flat when his staff appeared in his grasp. _My bow won't be of any use here..._ His arrows would be useful in keeping some distance between them, but that would only work on Ink for so long. "Please, Ink, just... tell me what I have to do to convince you!"

Metal collided with an echoing clang as Ink attacked, silent. _I'm done listening to you,_ those vivid eyes said.

Several swipes and passes and lunges and magic constructs, and neither were at the place they wanted to be with the other. Nearly roaring with his frustration at not even making the other bleed, Ink dove forward. Predictably, Dream moved to the side-

Hitting a wall of paint.

**"CREE!!"**

_SCHINK-!_

_"Pos!" Creativity snapped. Several warning flags had flown when the primordial asked Positivity to join him for training. The growing gruffness and anger swelling within the other was one, but the **training** was another. Training? Why did they need to train? Well, the first empath never said why. And likely wouldn't. Now? He was waiting impatiently for Posi to stand up. Ready to knock him back down again._

_Still, Positivity rose with a shaky smile on his face. "Cree..." he murmured softly. "I think that's enough for today... let's just... we can have some tea and talk for a bit about what's on your mind-?"_

_"You need to learn this, Pos. You need to learn to protect yourself, and fend for yourself."_

_That smile faded just slightly, and their little arena suffered for it. "Why does it feel like you've been trying to say goodbye to me...?"_

_"You need to **focus,** Posi. Your enemies aren't going to wait until you're on your feet again. They're not going to let you keep asking questions. They're going to try and **kill** you. You need to-"_

_"What...? What enemies? Cree, you aren't making-"_

_The first primordial snarled and darted forward, though this time, the action earned Positivity a wound across his face. He cried out, leaping away from Cree with hurt and surprise swirling all around him. Seeming to come to his senses for the moment, Cree froze. "Posi-"_

_"That's enough..." Positivity whispered shakily._

Ink screeched, recoiling from nearly plunging his knife through Dream's center as a brilliant golden light exploded from the other's sockets in his panic. Though experiencing some level of guilt at the pain Ink seemed to be in now, Dream took the advantage and knocked the knife from his hands. A few bones to trip the artist, and several more to have him locked to the ground. "That's enough."

The gold receded, but only to the point where the brilliant color was contained within Dream's sockets, replacing the void of black that should have housed simple eyelights. "That's enough," he repeated, sorrow shining in those eyes of gilded sunlight.

"Y... you..." Ink choked, stunned. Horrified.

_Stars shimmered beautifully in the light as they fell from the other's eyes. Tears._

_"I... I don't want to do this anymore, Cree. I-"_

"-don't want to fight." As he spoke, little dots of starlight gleamed at the corners of Dream's sockets, but he didn't let them fall. With Ink as unwilling to listen as he was, the guardian couldn't afford to let himself waver under the weakness his love for the artist instilled within him. "So... please, stop this and just... just stay down, Ink."

The artist continued to stare, choking out a broken, "Posi...?" in thinly veiled horror.

Again, gold receded; condensing down into twin suns that invoked warmth despite the scorching heat of the shorter skeleton's gaze. "Cree," was all he said. He knew that was all Ink needed.

"Oh gods, Posi... _Posi!"_

"Is no one going to introduce little ole me? I feel left out. Then again..." Smiling as he appeared behind Dream, Negativity shrugged, "You two always _were_ good at making others feel left out."

Ink squirmed, trying to free himself as a panic bloomed within his chest. _No...! No....!_

Nightmare smiled slowly, looking between them. "So, we're all back huh?"

Dream whirled around, facing him with his staff ready. "Let them go."

"Patience, little brother," the words were warm. Hot, even. "I'm not done with my toys yet, but I'll lend them to you soon."

"Lend- NO." The feelings Dream had weren't exactly.... anger. There were too many other things going on within him for it to be _just_ anger. But even so, 'bad' feelings were always subdued within the guardian. "Let them go!"

"Enough," Nightmare snapped. "You're the only one still fighting for me to let them out early, and if you don't _stop_ it? I will release them from Life's grip. Understood?"

Dream grit his teeth and fell quiet. For a moment. "Out early?"

"Heh." He turned towards Ink and raised a brow. "To be caught so easily though... and to give up fighting him so quickly. I really was hoping you'd just kill him."

Something shifted within Dream's chest. A... memory? Maybe? _"I've finally given up on you, brother."_ Yeah. Smile slowly widening, Dream relaxed his shoulders and approached Nightmare. "And what's stopping me from killing _you,_ brother?"

Nightmare's expression shifted. Just slightly, but change was change, no matter the size. "Oh? _You_ would seek to do me harm? How surprising."

"Is it?" Dream questioned, smile still in place as he watched his so-called brother closely.

"Dear, sweet _Posi_ actively wanting to cause another harm? How could it be anything but surprising? You were always the kindest of us all, after all. The sweetest." Annoyance bled into Nightmare's expression. "The most _foolish_ and _naive."_

"I was," he agreed, “but people grow, brother. Change. Even people like you and me."

"Posi...!" Ink's hoarse voice rang out.

Neither brother paid him any attention.

Graciously, Nightmare raised his arms and tilted his head slightly. "Well go for it."

Now... any logical person would hesitate. Anyone sane or with centuries of experience with someone like Nightmare would hesitate, even slightly. Of course Dream was going to pause right there, too. "Go for it?" he repeated, as if to confirm what he knew he heard. There was absolutely no way this wasn't a trap.

"Yeah. Why not? I doubt you'd be able to live with yourself afterwards."

Dream narrowed his gaze. "I think I can manage," he murmured before darting forward with his spear.

The next blink he was conscious of, Ink was staring down at him with surprise in his sockets. And blood leaking from his stomach and mouth.

Slowly, those bloody teeth tilted upwards.

"I'm... g-glad..." Ink choked, smiling. "I... I'm so glad..."

Dream released an agonized scream when Ink was roughly yanked back, off his spear.

"...t-that he didn't..."

"C... Cr...."

"...hurt you," the artist whispered.

Then, he was gone.

_"INK!"_

Nightmare's laughter sounded then. "I could be convinced to let them go sooner, little brother." He grinned. "Of course, you'll have to-"

"Give him back...!" he cried out. "G-give...! Give him _back...!_ Give them all back to me..! It's enough, Neggy! It's-"

"Delicious...." He hummed, taking a step away from Dream. "Pity that he can't actually die." Nightmare shrugged and waved his tendrils. "Well, saves me the medicine I suppose. Until next time," he grinned, voice shifting to mimic Ink's in a loving purr of, "Dreamboat."


	61. Too Much, Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is prepared for what comes next. Well, no one but Negativity, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Minor warnings** for a few brief lines hinting at sexual situations, both consensual and not.

Days continued to pass, collecting into weeks that added to the mockery of the time they spent trapped in the castle. _The castle,_ not home. Never home, even though what was once such an easy distinction to make now seemed so hard to recall. Still, they tried. They had to, because the moment they started calling this hellhole home would be the moment they lost.

Then again, wouldn't that just be one more to add to the list?

The distance established between Ink and his husbands after the reveal of his true identity, the way he was constantly jerked around by an invisible leash created from his own desire to protect his loved ones… the blood and dust on his hands from countless murders… weren’t those all losses? And those were just Ink’s own.

What about Reaper’s dying voice as a result of being forced to sing for their king time and time again? What about the way Error’s once vibrant colors seemed to darken more and more after every private visit with Nightmare? 

And what of the haunted look in Geno’s eyes and the manner in which his stomach slowly swelled, reminding them all of the months that passed them by and the urgency to get out? 

Weren’t these all losses? _Failures?_

To make matters worse, these things weren’t even all of the burdens that they struggled to carry the weight of. As time passed and their sentence of imprisonment grew, so did their troubles: Error with his growing hurt, betrayal, and _fear,_ Reaper with his extended silences, only ever broken now by croons of his husbands’ names, Geno with his silent terror and unwillingness to share the things he saw in the nightmares that made him scream at night…

Ink with his growing doubt that freedom would ever come.

Exhausted by their concerns, they often took to curling up together during the evening, after any assigned missions were complete. Distrust and uncertainty still remained when it came to Ink, but none of his husbands were able to part from him for long, especially during the quiet moments when their fear replaced the words that should have filled the silence between them. Thankful for their uncertain acceptance of him, Ink did his best to savor these moments; always afraid that one day he would reach for his precious ones just to have them turn him away.

Stumbling through the entrance to the mockery of their home, Ink smiled slightly upon finding his dear, sweet husbands curled together now; not quite slumbering, but peaceful for the moment as they pressed together tightly on the couch. 

“...Welcome back… Geno whispered, glancing at him with a tight expression before tucking his face back into Reaper’s neck. 

_Still sick…?_ Worried, Ink slipped off his shoes and made his way further inside the living room. Luckily, today’s duties consisted not of a mission, but of a private, _intimate_ dinner hosted by Negativity in which time was spent feasting and thinking back on _the good ole days._ The experience was absolutely horrible—as was anything that involved Negativity—but at least it meant he didn’t need to shower.

“Ge…?” he called out, crouching in front of the sofa and gently resting his hand on the glitch’s skull. _Hot to the touch, sweaty…_ Ink ignored the two sets of eyes watching him intently in favor of focusing, attention turned inward as he recalled all that was good and kind. _Paperjam’s smile, Goth’s laugh, Dream’s beautiful eyes…_ “Still feeling bad?”

The subtle tension in Geno’s form relaxed as gold spread from Ink’s touch, soothing him even as unfamiliar-yet-familiar magic embraced the short skeleton. “...Yeah,” he mumbled, sockets shut as he enjoyed the sensation of Reaper’s hand stroking up and down his back. And yet, _It’s Reaper… it’s my Reaps…_ he reassured himself. 

“Have you eaten?” The artist questioned, glancing towards the kitchen. Throughout the last few weeks, they all worked to provide Geno with the nutrients he failed to receive during his time spent comatose. There were hiccups along the way however, so if Geno didn’t eat today… “I’ll make you something.”

“...I’m… really not hungry…”

“What he means is that he puked up everything he tried eating,” Error corrected, pulling his face from the pillow he was buried in to glare at Ink, as if his brother’s sudden bout of sickness was the empath’s fault. Beneath the glare however, there was concern. Both for Geno, and Ink. _What did that bastard make you do today, you fucker?_

Ink tried to reassure him with a smile. It didn’t work. Much. “Think you can handle some broth, Ge?”

“Tried that.”

“Crackers.”

“Tried that too.”

Worry growing, Ink glanced between his other two husbands before suggesting, unsurely, “Water?”

“...”

“Ice cubes, maybe a popsicle if we have any left?” The fact that they had any to begin with was all thanks to Cross, who continued to sneak them sweets and other goods they wouldn’t otherwise receive from Negativity. “Hon, there has to be something you can keep down. _Anything.”_

“...I’ll try a popsicle…” Geno whispered, cringing as discomfort quickly trickled in, stomping over the brief moment of respite given to him by Ink’s magic. “...Not the blue ones, please.”

That got a weak chuckle from Reaper. “You make _one_ joke about blue popsicles and dicks and suddenly your husband hates blue raspberry.”

Ink cracked a smile, chuckling as well even as the brief flicker of humor he felt died. “Okay, honey. I’ll see if they have anything else but that flavor.”

“Th… thank you…” Shuddering, Geno curled up tighter, hands over his swollen stomach that still had quite the way to go in terms of growth. “...Re… Reaps…” he whimpered, flinching as another burst of pain went through him. That… that felt- “Reaper…!”

“Gen…?”

“Is…” Feeling nauseous, the glitch clenched his eye shut and curled forward the best he could, concealing his stomach as tears pricked his eye. _No… no, are they—_ “Can… can you feel them…? Reaps, can you fee—” Voice hiking with pain, Geno shuddered. “Something’s w-wrong. Something’s—”

“Glitchface?” Error murmured warily.

“C-can you feel the twins?” Geno cried out desperately, trembling under the weight of his own pain. “Are… a-are they…” a cry of torment interrupted him. “It… it hurts-!”

Reaper inhaled sharply, realizing just what Geno was asking and sitting up straighter with a distressed screech. 

“Gen, what’s wrong with the children?”

“I… I don’t know!” The glitch cried. “I don’t know, I don’t know…! But it hurts, it’s-!” 

“They’re not dying,” Reaper quickly reassured, gently coaxing Geno out of his curled up position in order to smooth a hand over his husband’s rounded belly. “Cr- Ink,” he called out, “something’s wrong with, Gen. With… with the children-”

There was a sharp whine from Geno, followed by a sudden dampness as moisture sank into the cushioning of the sofa they were on. Not blood, thankfully.

Fluid.

_Water._

“...No…” Geno whispered, shaking arms coming up around his stomach. “N-no, it’s- no! _Nononono…!_ I-it’s too- it’s too early!” he cried, struggling to sit up as pain began flowing through him; familiar from all those years ago when Goth was birthed. “It’s too early! _No!”_

“Shit-!” Sitting up abruptly, Error cursed again and boldly pressed his hand to Geno’s shorts, privately hoping that his brother merely pissed himself. No dice. “Fuck, what—_what do we do?!_ R-Reaps? _Ink!_ Ink, what do we do?! What do we-”

“Doctor. He… he needs a doctor…” Reaper interrupted, scooping Geno up into his arms and standing, looking lost. “We need to get him to a doctor!”

“No shit! But where the fuck are we going to find a doctor _here?!”_ Horror was the closest they had to such an individual, but Error would sooner cut off his own hand than let that bastard near his brother in such a vulnerable state. “Fuck, we… we have to ask to be let out…!”

Trembling, Geno sobbed as another wave of pain went through him. Contractions. They were _contractions,_ but they were too soon. Two months too soon. “My babies… my babies…” he choked out, biting back a cry of pain. _Premature… they’re going to be born premature…_ and that came with risks. 

What if there were complications?

What if the twins weren’t healthy?

Sobbing, Geno pressed his face into Reaper’s shoulder. _What if they don’t make it?!_

For a long, tense moment, Ink merely stood there; watching his husbands in silence with an emotionless expression as his mind raced. _Negativity won’t let us go, even if Geno_ is _in labor. He may allow us a doctor if one of us—if **I** make a deal, but he won’t let Geno go to one, so we’ll have to bring them here. But what do we offer, what do we-!_

“It… it hurts…!” Geno cried, voice wavering with terror and pain. “Reaps, it- it hurts…! R-Reaps… Error…”

_I don’t know what to do-_

_“Ink!”_ Geno sobbed.

Sockets flooded with color, shifting through various shades and hues as expanding symbols flickered into a chaotic mess. “Error, is there a medical wing in the castle?”

“A medical-” Falling silent at the look the artist sent him, Error nodded; knowing that the infirmary itself wasn’t the best, but suitable enough. At this point, _anything_ would be better than delivering the twins on a sofa in this damned mockery of a household. “I can—” he cringed at another cry of pain from Geno. “I’ll take them there, if… if that’s what you’re asking me to do.”

“Yeah,” Ink murmured, not sparing another moment for further conversation as he turned on his heel and stormed out, marching straight towards Negativity’s foul cluster of emotions. 

Cross startled, pausing his stride to their quarters when Ink brushed passed him without so much as a single glance or word. “Ink-”

“Head towards the infirmary, prepare. Hot water, towels, clean sheets on whatever beds or surfaces are there.”

“Prepare? Ink, for what-”

“Go.”

“Ink-!”

Whirling around, the artist snarled, _“Go!”_

And Cross, faced with darkening eyes and a face that dripped into the expression of something dark and foul, turned and followed the order without complaint. 

Ink didn’t bother staying to watch him go.

_Negativity…_

The moment he arrived in the self proclaimed king’s office, Ink’s snarl grew into something hateful as he slammed the doors open. “Negativity-”

Startled, a shorter skeleton jumped and whirled around.

_Sci._

Somehow, Ink’s rage managed to _grow._ “Four toys aren’t enough for you, you fucking-” 

Negativity raised a hand, expression one of amusement as Ink fell silent at the motion. “Relax, _love._ The little scientist is a show of goodwill on my part. Sweet Genocide requires a doctor, does he not?” 

Sockets void of shape and color, Ink growled, “You knew-”

“I assumed.” Emeralds gleamed with unholy joy, or as close to the sunny emotion that someone as foul as the primordial could get. “It’s been quite a few years, but…” Chuckling, the lord of all things terrible and dark smiled. “I recall the flavor of pain born from labor. What a disgusting taste.”

He-! Startled, Ink stepped back. “You-”

Negativity growled, forcing him over the nearest surface as his arousal pressed into Cree from behind—

_Moaning, he threw his head back as the emerald eyed skeleton pushed inside—_

_Cree screamed, pain raking through him as Negativity began to move within—_

No. 

Negativity wouldn’t dare reduce himself down so low as to be taken by another. 

_But then how does he-_

“Questions later, love,” the king of the castle crooned. “After all, don’t you have a little broken _bitch_ to return to? Or will you ignore my generous gift and turn away the scientist’s aid, condemning your runts to the deathling’s realm?”

_Bitch? Runts?! You little-_

“Go on, Cree,” Negativity ordered, smiling with a look of victory in his gaze. “Take the scientist and run along, while the offer of his aid is still available to you. _Go.”_

And Ink, scowling, snatched Sci’s arm and obeyed.

_Like the good little pet he was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear beforehand, time has been passing us by in this story~ the husbands have been trapped in the castle for a few months now: Seven in total!
> 
> Also, if y'all wouldn't mind answering a simple question? This prequel won't be the next story up if it were to be written, but [we would like your opinion!](https://forms.gle/cm7MFTaMCnoo2wNd9) Keep in mind that this poll will end on the 20th of April. Thank you!


	62. A... Simple Conclusion?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

"Where the fuck were you?!" Error shouted when Ink entered what looked to be a makeshift infirmary. Sockets narrowed, he stepped away from his sobbing brother's side with a growl, snarling, "Geno _needs _you, you fucking idio-"

Wordlessly, Ink shoved Sci in front of him, interrupting whatever else Error planned to say and appeasing the destroyer's panicked-fueled anger. For now. 

"Help him," Ink demanded, leaving Sci to follow his demand as he took up the position Error abandoned at the side of Geno's bed. "Ge, honey...?"

"It's too early..." Geno sobbed in lieu of a greeting. Groaning in pain as another contraction rushed through, the glitch thrashed around and tried to curl himself into a ball, stopped only by Reaper's gentle hands as the god coaxed him into stretching back out. "Th... they're too early... I-Inky, Reaps... they're too early..." 

_How many times will I see the colors of your terror before we're free? _Ink wondered, gently shushing his smallest husband and stroking a hand over his rounded stomach. "How badly does it hurt, Ge?" he questioned, already opening himself up to Geno's pain and flinching as echoes of the aches immediately settled into place. "Okay, that's... that's really bad... Do you want me to help you with the pain, honey? 

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's best that the patient continues on without any form of anesthesia." Sci stated, quick to jump in before Geno could reply. "In most cases, he would have the choice of being allowed relief from his pain, but..." Glancing around, the scientist made a face at the equipment available to him, though it would be more accurate to say the _lack _of equipment available. "...Look, I'm working this solo. Not just that, but we're dealing with not one, but _two _premature children and a mother I'm assuming isn't in the best condition to be giving birth. If something goes wrong, our best warning sign is going to be any pain he feels. So," Sci smiled, shrugging, "he's going to have to suffer. Sorry."

Error and Reaper bristled. Confined by choice to a corner in the room, even Cross frowned at the lack of a true apologetic expression or tone from Sci.

"Sorry, huh?" Ink murmured, soothing Geno with a soft kiss and a light touch to his stomach. "No, you're not. Not yet, at least." Another kiss, a comforting murmur to the glitch, then Ink turned around with sockets full of blazing, swirling red. "See," the primordial stepped forward, "if my husband dies? If my children don't make it out of this safe and sound?"

Geno cried out in pain.

It was hard, but Ink forced himself to take another step forward, closer to Sci.

"If _anything _goes wrong that you could have prevented, _then _you will be sorry. Do you understand, little scientist?"

Sci's calm smile wavered. "...Understood, sir."

"Good, then stop worsening everyone's mood _and get to work. _Geno needs help, and he needs help _now."_

"...Someone needs to change him," the scientist muttered, shaking his head and easing his expression into a neutral look of professionalism. "I assume there's no hospital gowns here? In that case, disrobe him completely. You can cover him with a thin sheet, but I'll need easy access to his genital region, understood? Are there any gloves?"

"N-"

"No!" Geno cried, squirming away from Reaper when the god tried to help him sit in order to easier disrobe. "No, I... I don't want to- my c-clothes!"

_"Undress," Negativity purred, emerald eyes darkening with lust. "I want to see all of you, Cree. I want to see everything you've ever denied me laid out bare before my eyes."_

Frowning, Ink shooed the memory away, then blinked-

_"Fuck," hands smoothed over his chest. Two, three, six... "Look at all these marks. Heh, I want to trace these with my ton-"_

Breathing heavily, the artist reached out and opened his connection to Geno wider, tensing as pain not his own rushed through him, then relaxing as the vivid purple torment replaced foul memories with painful, painful color. "Ge..." he murmured, a slight tremble to his gentle voice.

"No, no- _a-ah...!" _Ink shook in unison with the glitch at the next contraction. They were growing more frequent, it seemed. "I... I don't... I don't want to..." Geno sobbed. "P...Please... please, I don't want to...!"

"Ge-"

_"Please!" _the glitch begged, crying harder.

_"P-please!" Posi begged, crying harder as Cree continued walking away. "Please, Cree, don't-"_

"-make me do it...!" Geno continued to plead, trembling and sobbing with a mixture of fear and pain. It was a dizzying mix, but Ink didn't let himself become overwhelmed by the emotions. "Pleasepleaseplease...!"

Back then, he had no choice but to leave Posi behind to cry.

Ink wasn't going to make that same horrible decision now.

Returning back to Geno's side, the empath gently cupped Geno's face with hands that remained steady in spite of his own hidden nerves. Smiling softly, he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, whispering for the glitch and the glitch alone.

"Geno," he crooned, "My sweet, perfect Geno... no one is going to hurt you, okay? Not me, or Reapsy. Not Ru or Cross. And certainly not Sci or _him. _You're safe here, with us. _You're safe, _Ge, but you have to undress to make sure that our little ones remain safe as well, okay? _Okay?" _he pushed when the glitch continued to cry in place of responding. "Would it help if we put the blanket over you first?"

After a long moment of silence, Geno nodded; tearful. 

_So, so afraid..._

"That's our wonderful Geno," Ink murmured, lovingly wiping his tears away before accepting a thin sheet from Cross. With Reaper's help, they held the white piece of bedding over Geno, keeping him concealed from the others as he shuffled out of clothing. "Sci, what else is Geno going to need to do? And what of the rest of us? You'll need help for this, won't you?"

"Correct." Snapping his gloves into place, the scientist hummed in thought. "To be blunt, I'm going to need to stick my hand in his-"

Geno wailed, both from pain and the realization of just where Sci needed to touch.

"You fucking-" Error began, fingers twitching violently.

"Pardon my language, _but he's in fucking labor. _I need to check how far along he is. If he's dilated enough, then he can start to push. If not, he may need to walk around, or simply suffer through contractions until he's ready to give birth. _Prematurely, _might I remind you all? There's better things to concern yourselves with than the fact that I'm going to have to look at and touch my patient's vagina." Flatly, the scientist added, "Besides, I much prefer a hard, girthy dick than a wet mound. The red is pleasant, however."

It was a close thing, but Ink managed to resist the urge to flinch when Sci glanced at the collar he wore with a pointed look.

"Now," the scientist continued, "let's stop this pointless squabbling and get to work, hm?"

As if to add to the tension, Geno began to _scream._

* * *

The birth was several hours of just barely restrained panic and nausea on all their parts. As directed, Cross cleaned and held one of the children, a boy, as Sci had helped the second out. One of each, with the boy being much smaller than the girl.

Sci checked each of them over, worrying over them for different reasons. They were crying, though from each of the husbands' memories of PJ and Goth's births, they knew the cries were wrong. Words mumbled under Sci's breath like "sickly" and "breathing" had Ink tensing and ready to demand answers-

When Negativity reentered the room. "Ah, so they both made it? Lucky you, little Genocide."

Barely conscious after a grueling delivery, Geno whimpered weakly. Reaper was quick to soothe him, resuming his coddling and murmuring quiet words of comfort and praise. "...You did so well..." he whispered, the words meant for Geno and Geno alone.

"Did he?" Negativity drawled, intruding on the little moment between the two as he loomed over the child in Cross' arms. "This one seems... broken." His gaze slid to the girl cradled by Sci. "That one looks fine. Perhaps I'll claim them as my own, hm? Their eyes are similar enough to mine, and I _do _have an empty crib and a nursery ready to be put to use..."

Turquoise eyes as brilliant as a tropical sea flickered around, awed by this strange new world. Frightened by it as well. With a whine, the younger yet larger of the two infants began to cry yet again. Loud, afraid...

_Wheezing._

Negativity's eye sharpened, his socket narrowing in displeasure. "So they're _both_ broken, are they?" he murmured, turning towards Geno with a cold expression. "An early labor, broken twins... Months of observation and waiting **wasted** due to your incompetence," he hissed. "I should have known relying on broken merchandise would prove problematic."

Ink stepped forward, shaking, _protective_ as he's always been, though his voice was pleading to hide the rage that filled him at just the sight of Negativity. "Then let us go if we're no use to you." _Let **them **go, dammit! _His family didn't deserve to suffer through Negativity's cruel games any longer.

Tired and worn from working Geno through the delivery, Sci snapped, "With the conditions he's been put through I'm _shocked_ these two made it at all, _Milord."_

Negativity turned his attention slowly onto him. "What was that?"

Ink jumped in, "Y-you said," He stood his ground and spoke clearer, "You said-"

"I say many things, pet" Negativity interrupted, bored. "You're going to have to be much clearer with what you want. And you'll have to be quick, too. My patience thins. _And will someone stop that insistent crying?"_

Error scowled to hide his fear as he turned away, checking on the wailing, wheezing girl as the elder twin squirmed tiredly in Sci's hold. Weakly. 

"Let them go and take me Neggy," Ink stepped closer, shielding his family from the slightly younger primordial's view.

"Oh Cree..." Negativity sighed, reaching up to cup the empath's stained cheek. "I always did love to hear you beg to be taken by me... but _no."_ Claws dug into Ink's cheeks, drawing blood. "I'm... bored with you, I think."

"Liar," but he couldn't tell north from south from the emotions within the other. "Getting me back in your clutches has been the motivation behind your actions for _centuries._ Every world you destroyed, every bond you ever formed... taking my husbands and I... it was all because of _me,_ Neggy. So, do it. Take me and let the others go."

"Ink-"

Laughter interrupted Error, bringing everyone's attention back to the king they were foolish enough to turn their backs to, if even for a moment. Reaper was the first to react to the sight of him with the littlest of the twins wrapped in an tendril, screeching in terror for the safety of his newborn child. "N-no-!"

"You always were a narcissist, Cree," Negativity chuckled, examining the squirming, wailing bundle of bones with a discomforting look of interest. "However, I'll admit that there _is_ some truth behind your words. I loved watching you stumble about as poor, confused Ink. More than that, I loved bringing conflict to the worlds you adored and watching you scramble about, desperate to keep them safe. And when you fell for my little lover?" He winked at Error with a smirk. "Why, stealing him from you and ensuring you would never know the taste of his virginity was absolutely delightful... but now you're back."

Deeming the child well and truly useless, Negativity uncaringly dropped the poor thing back into Cross' arms who scrambled to support him correctly. The king didn't even bother glancing at the girl. "You're back," he murmured again.

Ink shakily stepped forward. "I... I'm _yours..."_

"You're boring," Negativity said flatly. "All this waiting around for you to remember and the result was so dull. Breaking you again was amusing at first but... I'm done. **I don't want you, Cree.**" A pause. "Perhaps I ought to take Posi?"

_Pos-_ "H-he's not.... he's not back-" But the memory of being pierced in the chest by Posi’s spear… being thrown through a portal back into the throne room of Negativity’s castle… it left Ink shuddering, gripping the fresh scar on his sternum.

"Oh but he is. And I'm not the slightest bit surprised he heeded my warning to back off, though I _am_ disappointed. He always loved you so much...." a wicked grin graced his features. "Although.... keeping you here would break his heart too.... maybe I should reconsider...." he chuckled and paces to the door. "Perhaps I'll have a need for you later, Cree. Later, but not now. So, Run along, love. Take your broken family with you."

_This.... was a trap..._ they all exchanged looks, thinking the same thing. _It's a trap, we're.... we aren't truly free._

"Collect the gifts you've accumulated from me, if you must," Negativity waved his hand. "But leave."

Not a single soul dared to move-

_Shit-!_ Trembling, Error bravely stepped forward, eyes on Negativity's retreating back. "If... i-if we're truly allowed t-to... to l... l-leave, then... th...then..." Trembling fingers curled into fist as Error forced the rest out, knowing that it was now, or never. "G-give me m-my brother's SOUL b-back, you fucker!"

One beat, two.

Then Negativity turned around, smirking. "Clever, clever... Very well, lover," Geno's SOUL appeared within his hand, "come and get it. Consider it a prize for ensuring you all take your leave fully intact."

Ink stepped forward, "I'll-"

"I told **Error** to take it."

Stress flooded Error's body. Knowing Night- _Negativity,_ he was expecting fingers to hold the SOUL, and not his strings. Or perhaps he could use his strings just for an accident to happen. Or he would use his hands, get the SOUL back, just to be pulled in close, despite his haphephobia buzzing through his body.

_This is it. This is the last time. Just grab his SOUL. Just take his fucking SOUL, and deal with whatever Negativity is gonna do to you. Dammit **move**!! P-PJ and Gothy are waiting...! And Spright and Respite and Dream, so **move**...!_

Error took those shaky steps forward, reached a hand out.

Shakily, he curled a hand around the SOUL, horrified at just how broken and misshapen it was with a portion miss-

Geno _screamed, _arching on the bed as Negativity yanked his arm back, splitting the already broken SOUL into uneven pieces.

As if the pain was his own, Error screamed as well, stumbling back with a fragment in his burning, itching hands that he cradled close to his chest; desperate to keep it safe. "Y... y...you...!"

Negativity smiled, stroking over a full half of the SOUL with his thumb. "That's more than enough for the glitch to live on, don't you think? This?" Smirking, he flicked his tongue out over the portion of SOUL he held, and Geno sobbed broken at the sensation of a tongue upon his very core. "Well, this bit I'll keep. Call it... insurance."

With that, the halved SOUL vanished, leaving Negativity's hand empty.

Both eyes--when did he have two...?!-- lit up in amusement as he wiggled now empty fingers in a playful wave. "Hope is quite the drug, isn't it lover? Well, best enjoy your high, then." And he was gone.

"...hurts..." Geno sobbed weakly, eyelight gone in his pain as tears dripped down his cheeks. "...It... it hurts... everything hurts..."

He was so, so tired of everything always hurting.

_"You cry so beautifully, little Genocide, yet I can't help but question your tears. Aren't you a masochist?" _

_Geno cried out as the tendril came down on his back._

_"Don't you want _more, _darling Genocide?"_

Turning weakly, the glitched sobbed into Reaper's robes. He was tired. He was so, so tired. All he wanted was his children, and sleep. His... his little... "M...Mari... Marigold..." he cried, "...Mer...ciful..." 

_Gothy._

Crying harder, the glitch clenched his socket shut against the lingering pain of labor and SOUL-torture and continued crying out for his children. His little Gothy, his precious twins, the son he neither sired nor birthed yet adored all the same.

He wanted to sleep forever, to escape this pain...

...but he wanted his children _more._

"...I... I w-want to go h-home..." Geno quietly sobbed, fingers curled tight in Reaper's robe. "I w-want... I want t-to..." Exhaustion dragged his socket shut, and the glitch went limp.

"G-Gen? _Geno?!”_ Reaper called, panicked.

Cursing, Sci went ahead and pressed the girl into Ink's hold in order to rush back to the glitch's side. After a quick look up, he sighed, "He's fine, guys. Delivering the two was hard on him, but he's resting out of exhaustion more than anything else." With a quiet apology, the scientist shifted to stand between Geno's legs, knowing that a lot of his help wasn't as thorough than what he would have preferred. He had standards, dammit, and none of them were met this day. "Stitching is holding up well. After he's settled in back home, give me a call. I want to do frequent check-ups on him and the twins. Until then, you may want to return his SOUL, Error. Well, the nifty pieces that are left of it, anyway."

Cursing, Error stumbled forward and passed the fragment to Reaper who quickly eased the dim piece back into Geno's chest. The glitch whimpered and squirmed, but didn't wake.

In all honesty, that was probably for the best.

"We... we'll get the piece off of Ink's collar once we're back home..." Reaper promised his slumbering first, stroking Geno's cheek. "Okay, honey? Just... just wait a little longer... just wait until we're home..."

Home...

"We... w-we're going home..." Ink whispered, awed.

"...All... _a-all _of us..." Error added, reached out when Cross took a small step back to snatch up his scarf and growl, "Welcome to the family, Rookie."

Startled, the other second stuttered out the beginnings of an excuse that Error was quick to shut down with a glare, his grip tightening around Cross' scarf. "E-Error, I can't, I... I-I'm not...!"

Error kept his eyes on Cross. _"All._ Of. Us," he repeated.

"...Teach," Cross began, "I... I do w-want to go with, but I... I made a deal. Horror-"

"Is staying," the skeleton in question said, looming in the doorway with a blank expression and a box held in his hands. "Deals off, Crissy." Roughly, he shoved the box at Cross. A quick glance down showed three packages, all wrapped in gleaming green paper and addressed to a Positivity. "Me and Kills? We've been given a reason to stay. The newbie too."

_Endure,_ the husbands thought.

Cross' thoughts went in another direction, eyes on the torment and regret in Horror's gaze. _Something... something happened. Nigh- Negativity is blackmailing him, isn't he?_ "I swore I'd-"

"Doesn't matter what you swore. This is outta your control." Horror glanced over the others. When he next spoke, his tone was dull, "Get going, assholes. Boss wants ya out in five, or yer stayin' for that many years."

That got most of them moving. Of course, except for Error and Cross, who stayed staring at Horror. "H," Error began.

"Save it. M'not allowed to talk about it so don't even bother." He glanced to the wall clock and muttered. "Four minutes, forty seconds."

Reaper gently lifted Geno into his arms, glancing to Ink for the girl and Cross for the boy, cringing at the awkward hold the guard seemed to have on both the smaller twin and the box. "Ru?"

With the haphephobia not calming fast enough, he reached for the box and made sure Cross had a good carry on the boy. Horror muttered, "Four minutes. The throne room's gonna be the easiest portal exit." Sci quickly shoved his tools into a bag to be dealt with later, then flung it over his shoulder. Quickly, that 'broken' little family followed after Error and Cross, to that dreaded throne room with too many horrible memories. There, Ink slashed open a portal, leading to the too sunny front yard of-

"Home...." Reaper whispered weakly.

On the other side stood a skeleton with a golden aura, seemingly outlined by the sun.

Horror stepped aside, watching them all leave. Cross was the last one, turning to Horror and murmuring, "If you need-"

"Fucking **go** you dumbass bitch," he snapped. "Don't even waste your breath on me, moron. And don't bother packing your fucking room. That shit's gone."

_Gone...?_ There wasn't time. Cross stared at him and murmured, "If you need anything, H," and nodded.

Years of being comrades and looking after each other, even if they pretended to hate each other, and even if they really _did_ hate each other at times, couldn't erase the feeling from Cross that Horror had, in a way, become part of his own little fucked up family. And with the husbands... well, Cross was a little terrified of it all, to say the least. Like the husbands, he didn't fully trust that Nig- Negativity would keep his word. He stepped through the portal and watched it close, just as Horror murmured, "Enjoy it, Cross..."

"...Thanks, H. Good-" The portal shut. "...bye."

Sighing, Cross turned away from what was now empty air in order to face the house with the rest of the group. Like the others, his gaze was drawn in by the golden shimmer encasing the skeleton.

Dream.

Outlined by the very same sunshine that radiated warmth and life within his gaze, Dream smiled. Behind him, the door slammed open to reveal four figures crowding the doorway, the two smallest gasping and rushing forward with overjoyed cries for their parents. At the sound, Dream's smile widened.

"Everyone," he greeted, "Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the [next one!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744164)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Incredulity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465815) by [TKWolf45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKWolf45/pseuds/TKWolf45)
  * [A "Simple" Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733769) by [DarkstarWolf53](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkstarWolf53/pseuds/DarkstarWolf53)


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